
QassTT\¥Vli 

Book .Kig.l\n 










JOHN BROWN 



THE 



COLLECTED SONGS 



OF 



CHABLES MACKAY. 



[itjr Illustration* trg Irrfm (&x\hzxt 



LONDON. 
G. ROUTLEDGE & CO. EARRINGDON STREET; 

NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET. 
1859. 









TO THE 

RIGHT HON. SIR E. L. BULWER LYTTON, 

BART. M.P. 

WITH 

EVERY SENTIMENT OF PERSONAL REGARD AND 
LITERARY ADMIRATION. 



PKEFACE. 



The first eighty-three songs in this collection — 
extending to 116 pages — were published in a shilling 
volume early in 1855, and ran through two editions. 
The remaining portion of the volume includes upwards 
of one hundred songs, now for the first time published, 
partly written for the national melodies of England, 
and partly without reference to any existing tunes ; 
and all the songs of the author not previously collected, 
and that have been scattered through newspapers and 
other periodical publications, or that have been issued 
with music during the last twelve or fifteen years by 
composers, who have done him the honour to unite 
their art with his. It also includes a few songs 
published among the miscellaneous poems of the 
author's most recent works, — " Egeria," " The Lump 
of Gold," and " Under Green Leaves." The whole 
forms a complete collection of his contributions to 
this department of literature ; with some omissions 



PREFACE. 



of juvenile songs — popular in their day — which his 
maturer judgment has led him to reject. Whatever 
the demerits of his collection may be, he has the 
consolation in publishing, as he had in writing the 
songs, that he has appealed in them to no base or 
degraded feeling ; that he has inculcated no vice or 
immorality, however popular or fashionable it might 
be ; but that, on the contrary, he has endeavoured to 
make song the vehicle for the inculcation of virtue, 
of self-reliance, of patriotism — of manly and womanly 
tenderness — of true love, — and of all the charities, 
courtesies, and amenities of life. He has also en- 
deavoured to make his songs simple and intelligible 
— or as Milton recommends, " simple, sensuous, and 
passionate;" and has preferred that critics should 
find fault with them for not being profound, rather 
than that the people — in the widest and best sense of 
the word — should find in them the still more serious 
fault of being difficult of comprehension, either by the 
head or the heart. 

London, November, 1858. 



mxQB fax 9ubxl 



HAPPY LOVE. 



Since the sweet knowledge I possess 

That she I love is mine, 
All nature throbs with happiness, 

And wears a face divine. 
The woods seem greener than they were, 

The skies are brighter blue; 
The stars shine clearer, and the air 

Lets finer sunlight through. 
Until I loved, I was a child, 

And sported on the sands ; 
But now the ocean opens out, 

With all its happy lands. 

ii. 

The circles of my sympathy 
Extend from earth to Heaven : 

I strove to pierce a mystery, 
And lo ! the clue is given. 

B 



SONGS FOE, MUSIC. 

The woods, with all their boughs and leaves, 

Are preachers of delight, 
And wandering clouds in summer eves 

Are Edens to my sight. 
My confidants and comforters 

Are river, hill, and grove, 
And sun, and stars, and heaven's blue deep, 

And all that live and move. 

in. 

friendly hills ! O garrulous woods ! 

sympathizing air ! 

many-voiced solitudes ! 

1 know my love is fair. 

1 know that she is fair and true, 
And that from her you've caught 

The changeful glories ever new, 

That robe you in my thought. 
Grief, from the armour of my heart, 

Rolls off like rustling rain : 
'Tis life to love ; but double life 

To be beloved again. 



THE LANGUAGE OF THE TREES. 
I. 

I heard the language of the trees, 
In the noons of the early summer, 

As the leaves were moved like rippling seas 
By the wind — a constant comer. 



THE LANGUAGE OF THE TREES. 3 

It came and it went at its wanton will, 

And evermore loved to dally 
With branch and flower, from the cope of the hill 

To the warm depths of the valley. 
The sunlight glow'd ; the waters flow'd ; 

The birds their music chanted, 
And the words of the trees on my senses fell, 

By a Spirit of Beauty haunted : — 
Said each to each, in mystic speech, 

" The skies our branches nourish ; 
" The world is good, — the world is fair,' — 

"Let us enjoy and flourish!" 

ii. 

Again I heard the steadfast trees ; 

The wintry winds were blowing ; 
There seem'd a roar as of stormy seas, 

And of ships to the depths down-going. 
And ever a moan through the woods was blown, 

As the branches snapp'd asunder, 
And the long boughs swung like the frantic arms 

Of a crowd in affright and wonder. 
Heavily rattled the driving hail ; 

And storm and flood combining, 
Laid bare the roots of mighty oaks 

Under the shingle twining. 
Said tree to tree, " These tempests free 

" Our sap and strength shall nourish ; 
"Though the world be hard, though the world be cold, 

" We can endure and flourish." 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



LITTLE AT FIRST, BUT GKEAT AT LAST. 



A traveller through a dusty road, 

Strew'd acorns on the lea ; 
And one took root, and sprouted up, 

And grew into a tree. 
Love sought its shade at evening time, 

To breathe its early vows, 
And Age was pleased, in heats of noon, 

To bask beneath its boughs. 
The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, 

The birds sweet music bore ; — 
It stood a glory in its place, 

A blessing evermore ! 

II. 

A little spring had lost its way 

Amid the grass and fern ; 
A passing stranger scoop'd a well, 

Where weary men might turn ; 
He wall'd it in, and hung with care 

A ladle at the brink, — 
He thought not of the deed he did, 

But judged that toil might drink. 
He pass'd again — and lo ! the well, 

By summers never dried, 
Had cool'd ten thousand parching tongues, 

And saved a life beside. 



LITTLE AT FIRST, BUT GREAT AT LAST. 
III. 

A dreamer dropp'd a random thought, 

? Twas old, and yet was new, — 
A simple fancy of the brain, 

But strong in being true ; 
It shone upon a genial mind, 

And lo ! its light became 
A lamp of life, a beacon ray, 

A monitory flame. 
The thought was small — its issue great 

A watch-fire on the hill, 
Tt sheds its radiance far adown, 

And cheers the valley still ! 



IV. 

A nameless man, amid a crowd 

That throng'd the daily mart, 
Let fall a word of Hope and Love, 

Unstudied from the heart ; 
A whisper on the tumult thrown — 

A transitory breath — 
It raised a brother from the dust, — 

It saved a soul from death. 
O germ ! O fount ! word of love ! 

O thought at random cast ! 
Ye were but little at the first, 

But mighty at the last ! 



b SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHY. 

[Music by Chaeles Maceay.] 
I. 

I've a guinea I can spend, 

I've a wife, and I've a friend, 
And a troop of little children at my knee, John Brovrn ; 

I've a cottage of my own 

With the ivy overgrown, 
And a garden with a view of the sea, John Brown ; 

I can sit at my door 

By my shady sycamore, 
Large of heart, though of very small estate, John Brown ; 

So come and drain a glass 

In my arbour as you pass, 
And I'll tell you what I love and what I hate, John 
Brown. 

ii. 

I love the song of birds, 

And the children's early words, 

And a loving woman's voice, low and sweet, John Brown; 
And I hate a false pretence, 
And the want of common sense, 

And arrogance, and fawning, and deceit, John Brovrn : 
I love the meadow flowers, 
And the brier in the bowers, 

And I love an open face without guile, John Brown ; 
And I hate a selfish knave, 
And a proud, contented slave, 

And a lout who'd rather borrow than he'd toil, John 
Brown. 



A PLAIN MAN S PHILOSOPHY. 7 

III. 

I love a simple song 

That awakes emotions strong, 
And the word of hope that raises him who faints, 
John Brown ; 

And I hate the constant whine 

Of the foolish who repine, 
And turn their good to evil by complaints, John Brown ; 

But ever when I hate, 

If I seek my garden gate, 
And survey the world around me, and above, John 
Brown, 

The hatred flies my mind, 

And I sigh for human kind, 
And excuse the faults of those I cannot love, John 
Brown. 

IV. 

So, if you like my ways, 

And the comfort of my days, 
I will tell you how I live so unvex'd, John Brown ; 

I never scorn my health, 

Nor sell my soul for wealth, 
Nor destroy one day the pleasures of the next, John 
Brown ; 

I've parted with my pride, 

And I take the sunny side, 
For I've found it worse than folly to be sad, John Brown ; 

I keep a conscience clear, 

I've a hundred pounds a year, 
And I manage to exist and to be glad, John Brown. 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE ASTRONOMER. 



Upon thy lofty tower, 

O lonely Sage, 
Beading at midnight hour 

Heaven's awful page ! 
Thine art can poise the sun 

In balance true, 
And countless worlds that run 

Beyond our view. 
Thou scannest with clear eyes 

The azure cope ; 
To thee the galaxies 

Their secrets ope ; 
Thou know'st the track sublime 

Of every star ; 
Space infinite, and Time, 

Thy problems are. 
Sage ! whose mental span 

Thus grasps the sky, 
How great the soul of man 

That soars so high ! 

II. 

But yet thou canst not guess, 

With all thy skill, 
What seas of happiness 

My bosom fill. 



THE ROSES ERRAND. 

Thou canst not track the woe, 

The hope, the faith, 
That prompt the ebb and flow 

Of my poor breath. 
Outspeeding with thy thought 

The solar ray, 
Thou canst not, knowledge-fraught, 

Discern my way. 
My love — its depth and height, — 

Thou canst not sound ; 
Nor of my guilt's dark night 

Pierce the profound. 
student of the sky, 

My pride departs; 
Worlds undiscover'd lie 

In both our hearts ! 



THE ROSE'S ERRAND. 
[Music by Chables Mackat.] 

I. 

I sent a message by the Rose 

That words could not convey ; 
Sweet vows I never dared to breathe, 

And wishes pure as they ; 
A mute but tell-tale messenger, 

It could not do me wrong ; 
But told the passion I conceal'd, 

And hopes I cherish'd long. 



10 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



My Love received it with a smile, — 

She read its thought and sigh'd, 
Then placed it on her happy breast, 

And wore it till it died. 
Immortal Rose ! it could not die : 

The spirit which it bore 
Lives in her heart, as first in mine, 

A joy for evermore. 



THE WHITE DOVE. 
I. 

The White Dove dwelt in woodland bower, 

A happy bird each live-long hour ; 

No care she felt, no grief had she, 

Deep hidden in her wild-wood tree. 

The castle tower stood fair and high, 

Its banner flaunted to the sky : 

" 'Tis bright," quo' she, "this morn of May," 

Then spread her wings and flew away. 

Oh foolish thing ! Oh luckless day ! 

She spread her wings and flew away. 

ii. 

She sat upon the castle gate 
And saw the Earl in all his state — 
With helm and plume, and jewels rare, 
And his youngest son with golden hair. 



LOVE IN ALL SEASONS. 11 

" A dove ! " he cried, u a milk-white dove — 

"Up in the turret far above !" # 

And from his side he drew a dart 

And pierced the trembler to the heart. 

Oh cruel, oh remorseless dart ! 

It pierced the trembler to the heart. 

in. 

" What have I done, unthinking boy ! 
"I've slain the thing that was my joy. 
" What have I done ? " with tears he cried, 
" I would to Heaven that I had died ! 
" The sweetest dove that ever new, 
" The mildest dove with eyes of blue ; — 
" The angel dove that I have slain ! 
u Remorse and I are one, though twain ; 
" Aye, flow, ye tears ! ye fall in vain, 
" I'll ne'er know happiness again ! " 



LOVE IN ALL SEASONS. 



I love my Love in the days of Spring, 
And for her sake, each living thing ; 
We gather garlands by the way, 
We pluck the blooms of the merry May. 
We roam the woods, we trace the streams, 
Our waking thoughts are bright as dreams : 
No bee on the blossom, no lark in the sky, 
Is happier than my Love and I ! 



12 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 

I'll love my Love in the Summer time, 
Our years shall ripen to their prime ; 
We'll sit in the shade a little more, 
Beneath the elm-trees at the door ; 
We'll watch with joy the children run, 
We'll give the world our benison : 
No bird in its nest on the tree-tops high 
Shall be so blithe as my Love and I ! 

in. 

I'll love my Love in the Autumn eves, 
We'll gather in our barley sheaves ; 
We'll reap our corn, we'll press our vine, 
We'll hear on the hills our lowing kine ; 
We'll pluck our peaches from the wall, 
We'll give our friends a festival : 
There is no joy the world can buy 
That we shall not share ; my Love and I ! 

IV. 

I'll love my Love in the Winter cold ; — 

So shall our tale of life be told ; 

We'll sit together by the hearth, 

Spectators of a younger mirth ; 

And as the children come and go, 

We'll dwell in the light where their faces glow : 

We'll live in love ; and loving die, 

And still love on, my Love and I ! 



WHEN, WHERE, AND HOW. 13 

WHEN, WHERE, AND HOW. 



When, and Where, and How, 

Rule our fate between them, 
Fortunate is he 

Who has grasp'd and seen them. 
Fairies, kind and bright, 

Men and Nature love them ; 
Earth and Time are theirs, 

And the sky above them. 

II. 

Fame, and Wealth, and Power 

Answer to their hollo ! 
Catch them if you can, 

And the world shall follow ! 
What his heart desires 

To the utmost tether, 
Are his lot who finds 

All the three together. 

in. 

But, alas, the day ! 

For the hopes they've blighted ; — 
Vain are all their gifts 

If they're disunited. 
Where may show the place ; 

When invite you to it ; 
But if How's away, 

How are you to do it 1 



14 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



IV. 

How may take your hand 

And inspire your spirit, 
But if When refuse, 

What's the good of merit i 
When may dawn in smiles, 

But if Where's unsteady, 
What avails the time, 

Or the hand that's ready ? 



Singly oft they come, 

Cheating Life's endeavour ; — 
Oh, the fairy Sprites, 

Dodging us for ever ! 
One, and two I've found, 

Willing when I bade them ; 
But the third, alas ! 

Never came to aid them ! 

VI. 

Let them cross my path 

Only for a minute, 
And whate'er my chase, 

Trust me, I shall win it ! 
All my heart's desire, 

To the utmost tether, 
Shall be mine the day 

When they come together ! 



POUR THE WINE IN THE CUP. 15 



POUR THE WINE IN THE CUP. 



Pour the wine in the cup, 
Beading up ! 
We'll be merry and wise, though we're few ; 
Fill each glass to the brink, 
And we'll drink 
Success to the gallant and true ! 
Confusion to knaves ! 
And freedom to slaves ! 
And joy to the honest wherever they be ! 
Bad luck to the bad ! 
Good heart to the sad ! 
And health to the Queen of the free ! 



H. 

Pour the wine in the cup, 
Beading up ! 
Once again we'll be all of a mind ; 
Fill each glass to the brink, 
And we'll drink 
access to the fair and the kind ! 
To blue eyes and black, 
That shine on life's track, 
The bright beaming hazel, the brown and the grey ! 
.Every joy may they prove, 
If they tell us they love, 
And mean the kind words that they say. 



16 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 

Pour the wine in the cup, 
Beading up ! 
Let it sparkle and foam in the light ; 
Fill each glass to the brink, 
And we'll drink 
Success to the cause that is right. 
May Justice be strong ! 
May Truth flourish long ! 
May rulers and people true freedom allow ! 
And may each who is here 
Keep a conscience that's clear, 
And never be worse than he's now. 



BELIEVE IF YOU CAN. 
[Music by Chaeles Mackay.] 



Hope cannot cheat us, 

Or Fancy betray; — 
Tempests ne'er scatter 

The blossoms of May. 
The wild winds are constant 

By method and plan — 
Oh ! Believe me, — Believe me, 

Believe if you can ! 



BELIEVE IF YOU CAN. 17 



II. 



Young Love, who shows us 

His Midsummer light, 
Spreads the same halo 

O'er Winter's dark night ; 
And Fame never dazzles 

To lure and trepan ; 
Oh ! Believe me, — Believe me, 

Believe if you can ! 

in. 

Friends of the sunshine 

Endure in the storm ; 
Never they promise 

And fail to perform. 
And the night ever ends 

As the morning began ; 
Oh I Believe me, — Believe me, 

Believe if you can ! 

IV. 

Words softly spoken 

No guile ever bore ; 
Peaches ne'er harbour 

A worm at the core. 
And the ground never slipp'd 

Under high- reaching man ; 
Oh ! Believe me, — Believe me, 

Believe if you can ! 
c 



18 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

V. 

Seas undeceitful 

Calm smiling at morn, 
Wreck not ere midnight 

The sailor forlorn. 
And gold makes a bridge 

Every evil to span ; 
Oh ! Believe me, — Believe me, 

Believe if you can. 



WHEN FIRST MY FANCY. 

[Music by Chables Mackay.] 
I. 

When first my fancy ceased to roam, 

'Twas thou that fix'd it, wild before ; 
Thine artless smiles allured it home 

And bade the truant stray no more. 
'Twas beauty's bondage o'er me cast 

The charm that speaks in silent eyes, 
Outshining all the misty past 

With hues of present Paradise. 

II. 

The wavelet, dazzled by a star, 
Lies lonely 'mid the restless sea ; 

But I, — a wavelet happier far, 
The star itself came down to me. 



BURIED GRIEFS. 19 

Oh ! blest was I above my thought — 
Beyond Expression's warmest bound ; 

'Twas Earthly Beauty that I sought, 
'Twas Heavenly Goodness that I found. 



BURIED GRIEFS. 



Oh ! let them rest, the buried griefs, 
"Why should we drag them to the day ? 

They lived their hour of storm and shower ; 
They lived and died and pass'd away. 



ii. 



Oh ! let them rest — their graves are green ; 

New life shall rise above the mould ; 
The dews shall weep, the blossoms peep, 

The flowers of sympathy unfold. 

in. 

So, on the solitary moor, 

The soldiers' graves are bright with flowers ; 
The wild thyme blooms, and sweet perfumes 

Attract the roamers of the bowers. 

IV. 

There strays the bee to gather sweets, 
And gives his booming trumpet rest ; 

There waves the heath its purple wreath, 
And there the linnet builds her nest. 
c 2 



20 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



So let them rest — the buried griefs, 
The place is holy where they lie ; 

On Life's cold waste their graves are placed- 
The flowers look upward to the sky. 



OH, SAY, FOND HEART! 

[Music by Chaeles Maceay.] 
1. 

Oh, say, fond Heart ! if Wisdom sighs 

To banish Sorrow from its sphere, 
The starry midnight from its skies, 

And wholesome winter from the year ? 
Oh no ! fond Heart ! 'Tis Folly seeks 

Incessant noon and summer bowers ; 
The tears we kiss from Beauty's cheeks 

Are Heaven's own dew-drops on the flowers. 

II. 

And how, fond heart ! could Love display 

Its deeper feelings, strong and pure, 
If constant pleasure track'd its way 

And it had nothing to endure *? 
Oh cease, fond Heart ! the selfish prayer ! — 

Take day and night with all they bring ; 
'Tis storms that purify the air, 

'Tis Winter spreads the couch of Spring. 



THE CONFABULATION. 21 



THE CONFABULATION. 



Dreaming in the shadow, 

On a sunny day, 
Leaves and blossoms told me 

Secrets as I lay, 
Gentle as the breezes 

Fell the whisper'd words, 
Clear above the music 

Of the early birds ; 
" Sister," said the fair blue-bell, 

Bending low her lofty head, 
" Hast thou ever thought of dying, 

" Daisy, blushing red." 

II. 

" Sister, when I perish," 

Said the flow'ret mild, 
" Let me grace a garland 

" For a little child, 
" Gather d by the fingers 

" Of a babe at play ; 
" 'Mid its flaxen ringlets 

" Let my leaves decay 1" 
" Sister," said the proud blue-bell, 

" Lady Ellen passes by, 
" Lovely more than speech can utter, 

" On her heart I'd die ! 



22 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

III. 

" Lightly fall her footsteps, 

"And her bright eyes shine, 
" 'Mid the darker noon-time, 

" With a light divine. 
" Better far to perish 

" Breathing her sweet breath, 
u Than from cruel winters 

"To receive my death 1" 
Flow'rets fair I thank yon both, 

For your gentle thoughts expressed ; 
But, for sake of bright- eyed Ellen, 

Love the blue-bell best. 



CONTRASTS. 

T- 

How beautiful is sunshine 

That follows after rain ! 
How pleasant are the dreams of ease 

When purchased by a pain ! 
How sweet when true love quarrels 

To make it up again ! 

II. 

How merry is the streamlet 

That has a rock to leap ; 
How blessed is the daily toil 

That brings refreshing sleep ! — 
Then prythee, Love, a quarrel ; 

But neither long nor deep. 



OH, THE HAPPY TIME DEPARTED. 23 

III. 

How dull would be the morning, 

Had night not gone before ! 
How tame would be the summer days 

Were't not for winter hoar ! 
And were our life all pleasure, 

Delight would be no more ! 

IV. 

After the dark, the dawning ; — 

After the cool, the heat ; — 
After the rain, the buds of spring ; — 

After the sour, the sweet ; — 
And after all thy chiding, 

Behold me at thy feet ! 



OH, THE HAPPY TIME DEPARTED ! 

[Air by Sir H. R. Bishop.] 



Oh, the happy time departed ! 

In its smile the world was fair, 
We believed in all men's goodness ; 

Joy and hope were gems to wear — 
Angel visitants were with us, 

There was music in the air. 



24 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 

Oh, the happy time departed ! 

Change came o'er it all too soon ; 
In a cold and drear December 

Died the leafy wealth of June ; 
Winter kill'd our summer roses — 

Discord marr'd a heavenly tune. 

in. 

Let them pass — the days departed ; 

What befell may ne'er befall ! 
Why should we with vain lamenting 

Seek a shadow to recall ? 
Great the sorrows we have sufFer'd — 

Hope is greater than them all. 



BY THE LONE SEA-SHORE. 

[Glee by Sib H, E. Bishop.] 
I. 

By the lone sea-shore 

Mournfully beat the waves, 
Mournfully evermore 

The wild wind sobs and raves. 
A sadness and a sense of deep unrest 
Brood on the clouds and on the water's breast. 



'tis merry in the mead. 25 

But lo ! the white sea-mew careering, 

Floats indolently by, 
And lo ! a snowy sail appearing 
Gleams fair against the sky \ 
The sadness and the loneliness depart — 
And Nature smiles with sympathy of heart. 

II. 

From snowy mountain-peak 

How sadly we look down 
On purple moorland bleak 

Ungladden'd by a town : 
The solemn grandeur is akin to pain ; 
We look for sympathy — and sigh in vain. 

But if we hear the kine deep-lowing, 
Or voice of chanticleer, 

Or watch the azure smoke upnowing 
From cottage homesteads near, 
The lonely landscape glitters in the sight, 
And human gladness robes it with delight. 



'TIS MERRY IN THE MEAD. 

I. 

'Tis merry in the mead, 
When tree, and flower, and weed 
Unfold their tender leaflets to wanton in the spring ; 



26 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

"When the linnet in the croft, 
And the lark a mile aloft, 
And the blackbird in the thicket, attune their throats 
to sing. 
Oh ! 'tis merry out of doors, 
On the daisy-spangled floors 
Of the balmy fields and pastures in the sweet, sweet 
month of May : 
When the heart of youth is light, 
And the face of care grows bright, 
And the children leap for gladness in the morning 
of the day. 



II. 

Oh ! 'tis beautiful to see 
How the blushing apple-tree, 
And the odour-laden hawthorn, and the cherry and 
the sloe, 
Have put on their bridal gear, 
For the nuptials of the year — 
The bridesmaids of the Earth, with their garments 
white as snow. 
And how the happy Earth, 
Growing young again in mirth, 
Has prank'd herself in jewels to do honour to the 
day— 
Of gold and purple bright, 
Of azure and of white ; 
Her diadem and bracelets, the meadow-flowers of 
May. 



THE CONSOLER. 27 

III. 

Come forth, come forth, ye sad ! 

Look at nature and be glad. 
Come forth, ye toiling millions, the universe is fair, — 

Come forth from crowded street, 

And cool your feverish feet 
With a trample on the turf in the pleasant open air ! 

The children in the meads 

String the buttercups like beads ; 
Be not too wise to join them, but sport as well as 
they; 

Come and hear the cuckoo sing, 

Come and breathe the breath of spring, 
And gild your life's October with the memories of May. 



THE CONSOLER. 

I. 

In winter, when the trees are bare, 

And nights are moonless ; 
When in the damp and chilling air 

The birds are tuneless ; 
When keen winds rattle on the road 

And nip our fingers, 
There is a comforter abroad 

Who never lingers : 
Ever he sings in silent ways — 

" The winter closes : 
" 'Tis I restore the summer days ; — 

" Time brings the roses." 



2S SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



"When summer heats our veins oppress, 

And the woods swelter ; 
When, faint with noontide sultriness, 

We pine for shelter ; 
When weary of the daily walk 

O'er moor and meadow, 
We long for change, for fireside talk, 

And the lamp's shadow, — 
Still sings the soother of our woes — 

" To sigh is folly ; 
"The same kind hand that brought the rose, 

"Shall bring the holly." 

in. 

True friend ! — too often call'd a foe — 

He prompts all gladness ; 
He whispers warmth when cold winds blow, 

And joy in sadness ; 
He lights the darkness of to-day 

With promised morrows, 
And has some kindly word to say 

In all our sorrows. 
For every grief he bears a spell — 

Care's best controller ; 
And loves all those who use him well — 

Time, the Consoler ! 



THE SECRETS OF THE HAWTHORN. 29 

THE SECRETS OF THE HAWTHORN. 

[Music by Charles Mackay.] 
I. 

No one knows what silent secrets 

Quiver from thy tender leaves ; 
No one knows what thoughts between us 

Pass in dewy moonlight eves. 
Roving memories and fancies, 

Travellers upon Thought's deep sea, 
Haunt the gay time of our May-time, 

O thou snow-white hawthorn tree ! 

II. 
Lovely was she, bright as sunlight, 

Pure and kind, and good and fair ; 
When she laugh'd, the ringing music 

Rippled through the summer air. 
"If you love me ; — shake the blossoms I" 

Thus I said too bold and free ; — 
Down they came in showers of beauty, 

Thou beloved hawthorn tree ! 

in. 

Sitting on the grass, the maiden 

Yow'd the vow to love me well ; 
Yow'd the vow ; and oh ! how truly, 

No one but myself can tell. 
"Widely spreads the smiling woodland 

Elm and beech are fair to see ; 
But thy charms they cannot equal, 

O thou happy hawthorn tree ! 



30 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 

SHALL LOYE BE FOR EVER THE THEME 

OF THE SONG? 

[Music by Chaeles Mackay.] 

I. 

Shall Love be for ever the theme of the song, 

O minstrel, whose voice the night -echoes prolong 1 

Shall Friendship and Valour for ever inspire 

The thoughts of the heart, and the tones of the lyre ? 

Ah, no ! let them rest in oblivion awhile, 

And we'll sing a new song with a tear and a smile,- — 

The song that shall kindle, wherever we roam, 

A light brought from Heav'n to the altar of Home ! 

ii. 
" In vain " said the minstrel, " you'd ask me to sing ! 
" Old names and old thoughts would return to the string; 
" Your home would be cheerless, if Love were not there, 
" To hallow the spot with all memories fair. 
"Were Valour and Duty no guests at the hearth, 
" And Friendship an alien in Grief or in Mirth, 
" The fire on the altar would die where it grew, 
a And Home be no longer the home of the true." 

* in. 

Let Love then for ever be heard in thy song, 

O minstrel, whose voice the night-echoes prolong ! 

Let Friendship and Valour ennoble thy strain, 

And throb in the chords of thy wild harp again, — 

With the patriot zeal that ennobles our land, 

And hallows the heart when it needs not the hand ; — 

May these be our blessings wherever we roam, 

And live, as of old, in our songs and our Home ! 




DUDLEY CASTLE 



DUDLEY CASTLE. 31 



DUDLEY CASTLE. 

[Music by Chaeles Mackay.] 
I. 



Fkom Dudley's Halls the lights are glancing, 

Far seen across the moorland dim, — 
In Dudley's Halls their lord is dancing, 

And fair young lips have smiles for him. 
And he lies slain I vow'd to cherish — 

By Dudley's hand the shaft was thrown ;— 
And I forlorn am left to perish, 

Heart-broken, widow'd, and alone. 



II. 

Smile, Dudley, smile, thy revels keeping ! — 

Make bright with joy thy lordly tower ; 
Mine eyes are dim with hopeless weeping, 

But misery gives prophetic power. 
Down, down shall fall thy turrets hoary ; 

Bed ruin lights the sultry air ; 
And down shall fall thy name and glory, 

Low as my shame and my despair. 



32 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

COME BACK ! COME BACK ! 

[Music by John Gray.] 
I. 

Come back — come back — thou youthful Time, 

When joy and innocence were ours, 
When life was in its vernal prime, 

And redolent of sweets and flowers ! 
Come back — and let us roam once more 

Free-hearted through Life's pleasant ways, 
And gather garlands as of yore, — 

Come back — come back — ye happy days ! 

ii. 
Come back — come back ! — 'Twas pleasant then 

To cherish faith in Love and Truth, 
For nothing in dispraise of men 

Had sour'd the temper of our youth. 
Come back — and let us still believe 

The gorgeous dream romance displays, 
Nor trust the tale that men deceive, — 

Come back — come back — ye happy days ! 

in. 

Come back — oh, freshness of the past, 

When every face seem'd fair and kind, 
When sunward every eye was cast, 

And all the shadows fell behind ; — 
Come back ! — 'Twill come ; true hearts can turn 

Their own Decembers into Mays ; 
The secret be it ours to learn, — 

Come back — come back — ye happy days ! 



MANY CHANGES I HAVE SEEN. 33 



MANY CHANGES I HAVE SEEN. 



Makt changes I have seen, 

Over many lands I've been, 
And I've learn'd a thing or two in my time. 

I never knew a knave 

Who went happy to the grave, 
Or reach'd the mountain-top he meant to climb. 

Though I've travell'd far and wide, 

And have waited time and tide, 
I never knew Dishonesty to win, 

Or a heart however hard 

From all sympathy debarr'd, 
Or that kindness could not touch and enter in. 



II. 

Never yet in all my round, 

Though I've sought him, have I found 

A thriving man contented with his gold ; 
Or the children of the just 
Lying homeless in the dust, 

Without a friend to shield them from the cold. 
JNever yet could I discern, 
Though I've struggled hard to learn, 

That the rich could bolt out Sorrow from the door ; 
Or that Wisdom, very wise 
In its own and others' eyes — 

Did not nurse some little folly at the core. 

D 



34 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 



Never yet I knew a man 

"Who made others' good his plan, 
Who was not over-paid in peace of mind ; 

Nor a worshipper of self 

And a scraper-up of pelf, 
Whose treasures were not scatter' d to the wind. 

And now the song is done, 

Here's success to every one 
Who plays through all his life a manly part ! 

And be blessings round theni flung, 

Be they old or be they young, 
Who unite in all their doings, willing hand and 
loving heart. 



THE SYMPATHY OF THE BELLS. 

I. 

Forlorn ! Forlorn ! I sit and sigh 
And hear the church bells pealing high, 

« One "— " two "— " three "— " four "— 

No more, no more 
Shall I be happy as before. 
" One "— " two "— « three "— " four "— " five "— " six " 

— " seven "— " eight "— 
There hangs a cloud upon my fate ; — 
The bells my very accents borrow, 
And ring in sympathy of sorrow. 



THE UNIVERSAL CORNER. 35 

II. 

But when with care-untroubled mind 
I hear the chimes upon the wind, 

« One "— " two "—and " three " 

Oh merrily ! 

« Four "— « five "— " six "— " seven "— 

From earth to heaven. 
« One " — " two "— " three "— " four "— " five "— " six " 

— " seven " — " eight " — 
The joy-bells storm its opening gate ; — 
'Tis from my thought they take the measure, 
And ring in sympathy of pleasure. 



THE UNIVERSAL CORNER. 



When little John is five years old 

With cheeks like peaches glowing, 
With merry eyes, half bold, half shy, 

And smiles like ripples flowing : 
Wouldst see him happy? Watch him well, 

And, proud as famous Horner, 
You'll find him joyous and alone 

With sweetmeats in a corner. 
b 2 



36 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 

And older grown, a youth in years, 

When taste and pleasures vary, 
He loves to haunt the self-same place 

With cousin Jane or Mary. 
Inquire not what their talk may be, 

Nor laugh, you idle scorner; 
But be assured, whate'er they say, 

They're happy in the corner. 

ill. 

And later still, when past his prime, 

He's run the round of pleasure, 
And learn'd, like Israel's mournful king, 

The worth of things to measure. 
" What shadows have I chased," he cries- 

And sighs, with heart forlorner — 
" Vexation, vanity, and shams, 

" I spy you from the C( rner ! " 

IV. 

Still faithful to the place, he sits 

With wife and children round him, 
And smokes the " calumet of peace," 

When troubles would confound him. 
Takes Fortune kindly, if she comes ; 

If absent, does not mourn her : 
So topple kingdoms, if you will — 

He's quiet in the corner ! 



THE DEWDROP AND THE DIAMOND. 37 



THE DEWDROP AND THE DIAMOND. 
L 

A dewdrop, bright with all the rays 

That summer noon could lend her, 
Lay smiling on a rose's breast 

In evanescent splendour. 
" Behold/' said Folly, passing by, 

u This gem the rose adorning ! 
u How like a gem of priceless worth 

" It sparkles to the morning." 

n. 

A diamond, lost from Beauty's brow. 

Lay lonely in the by-way ; 
And heard the words that Folly spoke, 

Bepeated from the highway. 
" Ah me I " she said, " this transient thing 

" Extorts the praise of many ; 
u While I am trodden in the dust, 

" Unseen, unknown of any." 

IIL 

Hush ! Envy, hush ! the true of heart 

Should bear without repining ; 
Thy light is not the less thine own 

That none can see it shining ! 
The dew exhaling in the sun 

Shall fade from men's opinion ; 
Whilst thou mayst live to grace a crown 

In glory and dominion ! 



38 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



ELLEN. 



When thou art grave, and cast est down 

Those beaming eyes of thoughtful beauty,, 
And speakest low the kindly words 

That make our admiration duty ; 
When with thy gentle woman's voice 

Some tale of grief I hear thee telling, 
Till all thy heart with pity throbs, 

I love thee, and I call thee Ellen. 



ii. 

But when thou'rt gay, and sheddest smiles. 

Like sunlight on the place thou fillest j 
When to delight the throbbing air 

Some snatch of melody thou trillest ; 
When, like a little silver bell, 

Thy merry laugh rings musically, 
And thy sweet eyes respond to mine, 

I love thee, and I call thee Nelly. 




THE FISHERMAN 



THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE. 39 

THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE. 

[Air by Chables Mackay : Arranged for three voices by Sie H. E. Bishop.] 



What joy attends the fisher's life ! 

Blow, winds, blow ! 
The fisher and his faithful wife. 

Row, boys, row ! 
He drives no plough on stubborn land, 
His fields are ready to his hand ; 
No nipping frosts his orchards fear, 
He has his Autumn all the year. 

Yeo ! Heave ! Ho ! 

ii. 

The husbandman has rent to pay. 

Blow, winds, blow ! 
And seed to purchase every day. 

Row, boys, row ! 
But he who farms the rolling deeps, 
Though never sowing, always reaps ; 
The ocean-fields are fair and free, 
There are no rent-days on the sea. 

Yeo ! Heave ! Ho I 

in. 

Then joy attend the fishers life ! 

Blow, winds, blow ! 
The fisher and his faithful wife. 

Row, boys, row ! 



40 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 

May favouring breezes fill his sail, 
His teeming harvests never fail ! 
And from his cottage on the strand 
Come forth defenders of our land. 

Yeo ! Heave ! Ho ! 



GOOD-BYE, DEAK FRIENDS! 

I. 
When on the bough the fruits decay, 
The hungry sparrows fly away; 
And when the house begins to fall, 
The rats forsake it, one and all : 

Good friends — dear friends — such fate have I ! 
My fortune's daily growing worse, 
There's not a penny in my purse : 

Good-bye ! — dear friends — good-bye ! 

II. 
'Tis true I gave you corn and wine, 
And made you free to all things mine ; 
But times have greatly changed since then, 
I yield no drink to thirsty men : 

Good friends — dear friends — the well is dry; 
I seek in vain through all the town, 
And cannot borrow half a crown : 

Good-bye ! — dear friends — good-bye ! 

in. 

But should the tree bear fruit once more, 
The birds will twitter as before ; 



TRADE AND SPADE. 41 

And should the house forbear to fall, 
The rats will burrow in the wall. 

Good friends — you're happy — so am I ! 
The leafless tree can stand alone ; 
The wall is built of solid stone : 

Good-bye ! — dear friends — good-bye ! 

rv. 

So get you gone, I need you not ! 
Your friendship 's dear at half a groat ! 
I have some friends worth scores of you, 
Health, Hope, and Strength, to dare and do. 

Good friends — there's sunshine in the sky ; 
You've served your ends, — no harm is done, — 
I've learn'd what company to shun : 

Good-bye ! — dear friends — good-bye ! 



TRADE AND SPADE. 



Between two friends in days of old 

A bitter strife began ; 
And Father Spade with Brother Trade 

Disputed man to man. 
" You're vain, undutiful, and proud," 

Said Spade, with flashing eyes ; 
" You earn your thousands while I starve ; 

" You mock my children's cries. 



42 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

" You ride in state with lordly looks ; 

" You dwell in bower and hall ; 
" You speak of me reproachfully, 

" And prosper on my fall. 
" So from this hour, in shine or shower, 

" We'll learn to live apart : 
" I ruled the earth ere you were born— 

u I cast you from my heart ! " 

ii. 

And Trade lost temper in his pride, 

And utter d words of scorn : 
" You do not know the ways of men, 

" Amid your sheep and corn. 
" You doze away the busy day, 

" Nor think how minutes run ; — 
" Go, put your shoulder to your work, 

" And do as I have done. 
" You've all the earth to yield you wealth, 

" Both corn and pasture-land ; 
" I only ask a counting-house, 

" And room whereon to stand. 
" And from this hour, in shine or shower, 

" I'll learn to live Hone ; 
" I'll do without you well enough — 

" The world shall be my own ! " 

in. 
And thus they wrangled night and day, 

Unfair, like angry men ; 
Till things went wrong between them both, 

And would not right again. 



TRADE AND SPADE. 43 

But growing wiser in distress, 

Each grasp'd the other's hand ; 
" Twas wrong," said Spade, " to rail at Trade ; 

" He loves me in the land." 
And Trade as freely own'd his fault : 

" I've been unjust," he said, 
" To quarrel with the good old man 

" Who grows my daily bread. 
" Long may we flourish, Trade and Spade, 

" In city and in plain ! 
" The people starve while we dispute — 

" We must not part again." 

IV. 

And all the people sang for joy, 

To see their good accord : 
While Spade assembled all his sons, 

And piled his plenteous board. 
He fed them on the best of fare, 

Untax'd the foaming ale, 
And pray'd on England's happy shore 

That Trade might never fail. 
And busy Trade sent fleets of ships 

To every sea and strand, 
And built his mills and factories 

O'er all the prosperous land. 
And so we'll sing God save the Queen ! 

And long may Father Spade, 
For sake of both the rich and poor, 

Unite with Brother Trade. 



44 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE CHRISTMAS QUEEN. 
I. 

I am Queen of Smiles and Beauty, 

Queen supreme this Christmas night. 
Loyal subjects ! hear your duty — 

My decrees are Law and Right. 
Mine's a crown of Christmas Holly, 

Mine's a charter — wide yet clear ; 
Foe of gloom and melancholy, 

Friend of Laughter — Song — and Cheer. 

XI. 

I have titles to reward you, 

I can make you Dukes and Earls ; 
In my court we'll thus regard you, 

If it please the pretty girls. — 
Choose your rank! "my Lady Smiler !" 

" Duchess Lovely ! " " Countess Coy ! " 
" Princess Eye-Bright," — heart-beguiler ! 

"Ensign Pleasure!" "General Joy!" 

hi. 

Could I govern States and Nations 

As to-night I govern you, 
I would double poor men's rations, 

And give Merit all its due. 
Wealth should taste a keener pleasure, 

Happy genius learn to thrive, 
Every child should be a treasure, 

And each honest man should wive. 



HAPPY WINTER. 45 

IV. 

This I'd do if I were able, 

And my kingdom not so small, — 
Bounded by a dinner-table 

And the pictures on the wall. 
Yet, what matters 1 Here is gladness : 

Joy requires no wider span — 
Leave the outer world to sadness ; — 

We'll be happy while we can. 



HAPPY WINTEB. 



Said Winter ; — and he strove to frown, 

" Why do you love me, young and old ? 
" The drifting snows my forehead crown, 

"My heart is hard, my blood is cold?" 
" Ah, no ! " said both, " We love you well 

" For fresh delights remember'd long ; 
" Your voice is merry as a bell, 

" And all your accents sound like song. 
" So smile — old Winter — smile again, 

" You but pretend our foe to be ; 
" You warm and cheer the hearts of men, 

" We love you for your Revelry." 



46 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



Said Winter to the maid I love, 

"What makes thee prize me, maiden fair? 
" I strip the verdure from the grove, 

"And Hush the music in the air." 
Sweet was her smile as she replied, 

" O Winter wild, though this be true, 
" You come with Christmas at your side — 

"You give affection work to do. 
" The suffering and the poor you seek, 

" With kindly words and offerings free, 
" You dry the tears on Sorrow's cheek ; 

"We love you for your Charity." 



ill. 

Old Winter kiss'd the blushing maid, 

To young and old he held his hand : 
"Who loves me in this guise," he said, 

"Need fear no winter in the land. 
" On them I'll ask my daughter Spring 

" Her choicest blooms and balms to pour, 
" The Summer on their path shall sing, 

"And Autumn bless them with its store. 
" So be ye happy on the earth, 

" Whate'er your name or station be, 
"Who mingle with your Christmas mirth 

"Your bounteous Christmas Charity." 



COLD CHRISTMAS 1 — NO ! 47 

COLD CHRISTMAS ?— NO ! 

[Music by Sir H. R. Bishop.] 
I. 

Cold Christmas ? No ! 

Our Christmas is not cold ; 
Although the north winds blow, 
And pile the drifting snow, 
And the beech-trees on the freezing wold 

Rock sadly to and fro, 
Our Christmas bears a warm true heart, 
His face is red with glee ; 
And he jests and laughs, 
And he sings and quaffs. 
He was never unkind to me, my love : 
May he never be cold to thee ! 
Cold Christmas ? No ! 
He is warm and bright, 
And he brings delight 
To the hearts both of high and low. 

IL 

Old Christmas J ]STo ! 

Though states and kingdoms wear, 
And change and ruin grow 
From ages as they flow ; 
He's as light of tread, as young and fair, 

As a thousand years ago. 
The morning beams are always new, 
And scatter blessings free ; 
And the Christmas-day 
Is as new as they. 



48 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

He was never old to me, my love : 
May he never grow old to thee ! 
Old Christmas I No ! 
He shall never part 
With his youth of heart 
While there's love in this world below. 



THE DOUBTFUL CASE OF ABSTINENCE AND 
TEMPERANCE— 

WITH THE UMPIRE'S OPINION. 
THE WATER-DRINKERS. 

As long as there are wells and springs, 

And clear refreshing fountains, 
As long as mighty rivers run 

To ocean from the mountains, 
As long as seas give back to clouds 

The rains that form the river, — 
We'll drink our draughts of water pure, 

And bless the bounteous giver. 

THE WINE-DRINKERS. 

As long as vineyards yield the grape 

And nectarines grow mellow, 
As long as apples load the trees 

And barley-fields are yellow, — 
We'll drink our cider, ale or mead, 

And wine, the best of liquors, 
And press whatever juice we please 

To fill our flowing bickers. 



THE DOUBTFUL CASE. 49 



THE WATER-DRINKERS. 



Let those who toast the lords of war 

And demigods of battle, 
Prefer the draught of fiery wine, 

And make the tables rattle ; 
We drink to men of peaceful deeds, 

To men abhorring slaughter, 
The civilizers of the earth, 

And — here's to them — in water ! 



Let those whose fitful passions rove 

From new to newer beauty, 
Drink to their changeful loves in wine, 

And scorn the charms of duty ; 
We drink the mild domestic hearth, 

The wife, the son, the daughter — 
The bright fireside of honest men — 

And — here's to it — in water ! 



THE WINE-DRINKERS. 

Let you who are so puling weak, 

So lost to self-reliance, 
As not to trust your own resolve 

To bid excess defiance, 
Drink, if you will, at pumps and wells, 

Lest use of wine should hurt you ; 
We'll taste the blessings Heaven has sent, 

Nor think denial virtue. 

E 



50 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Poor souls ! you fear not other men. 

You dread internal treason, 
But if you starved for fear you'd choke, 

You'd show as much of reason. 
We too can honour virtuous love 

And fame unbought of slaughter — 
We'll drink to both in wholesome wine, 

And wash ourselves in water. 

THE UMPIRE'S OPINION. 

Like every umpire ever named 

A doubtful case to settle, 
I can but say I love you both, 

Oh goblet ! — and oh kettle ! — 
Whene'er I drink to honest hearts, 

I'll drink with equal pleasure 
The limpid water from the brook, 

Or wine in flowing measure. 

Let those who, masters of themselves, 

Can use without abusing, 
Drink the good wine, whate'er it be — 

I leave it to their choosing. 
But those who feel their want of strength 

When woo'd by potions richer, 
. Are wise if they confine their draughts 

To water from the pitcher. 



ELLEN EVELINA. 51 



ELLE^ EVELIXA. 

I. 
Thou hast smiles for all the world, 

Ellen Evelina ! 
Beautiful those smiles may be, 
Warm as sunshine, and as free ; 
But I'd rather, I confess, 
Love a maid who, smiling less, 
Gave her sweetest smiles to me, 

Ellen Evelina ! 

II. 

Thou canst win the world's applause, 
Ellen Evelina ! 
Thourt a wit and lei esprit, 
Living upon flattery ; 
But I'd rather all my days 
Love a woman seeking praise 
Not from others, but from me, 

Ellen Evelina ! 

in. 
"When thou singest, hearts beat low, 

Ellen Evelina ! 
Admiration great and free 
Lingers on thy melody ! 
But no song, however fair, 
In my fancy can compare 
With a whisper'cl — "I love thee,'* 

Ellen Evelina ! 
e 2 



52 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

IV. 

Oft I think against my will, 

Ellen Evelina ! 
^Notwithstanding all I see 
Bright and beautiful in thee, 
That thou lovest, oh my belle, 
Thy enchanting self too well, 
To give love enough to me, 

Ellen Evelina ! 

v. 

Thou hast chosen — so have I — 

Ellen Evelina ! 
In thy track I'll cease to run, 
I will end as I begun ; 
She whom I would choose for life, 
For my love, my friend, my wife, 
Must have heart — and thou hast none, 
Ellen Evelina ! 



GEEAT KING WILLIAM. 
I. 
Great King William spread before him 

All his stores of wealth untold, 
Diamonds, emeralds, and rubies, 

Heaps on heaps of minted gold. 
Mournfully he gazed upon it 

As it glitter d in the sun, 
Sighing to himself, " Oh treasure ! 

" Held in care, by sorrow won ; 



GREAT KING WILLIAM. 53 

"Millions think me rich and happy, 

" But, alas ! before me piled, 
" I would give thee ten times over 

" For the slumbers of a child." 

IL 

Great King William from his turret 

Heard the martial trumpets blow, 
Saw the crimson banners floating 

Of a countless host below ; 
Saw their weapons flash in sunlight, 

As the squadrons trod the sward ; 
And he sigh'd " Oh ! mighty army, 

"Hear thy miserable lord : 
"At my word thy legions gather — 

"At my nod thy captains bend — 
"But, with all thy power and splendour, 

" I would give thee for a friend ! " 

ILL 

Great King William stood on Windsor, 

Looking from its castled height 
O'er his wide-spread realm of England, 

Glittering in the morning light ; 
Looking on the tranquil river 

And the forest waving free, 
And he sigh'd, " Oh ! land of beauty, 

" Fondled by the circling sea, 
" Mine thou art, but I would yield thee, 

"And be happy, could I gain, 
" In exchange, a peasant's garden 

" And a conscience free from stain." 



54 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 



PKOUD BEAUTY. 



I. 

Proud maid, thou lov'st thyself too much 

To give thy love to me ; 
Thou art too distant for my touch, 

I've lost my faith in thee. 

ii. 
Though thou art splendid as a star, 

Thy beams are little worth, 
They come too coldly from afar, 

And cannot warm the earth. 

in. 

I want no star amid the gloom, 

To light my mortal way, 
I want a taper in my room 

When twilight groweth gray. 

IV. 

I want no proud majestic tree 

To shade my cottage o'er, 
I want a honeysuckle free 

To clamber at the door. 

v. 

I want no diamond sharply set 

Upon my forehead press' d, 
I'd rather have a violet 

To carry at my breast. 



UNDER THE VINE. 55 



VI. 

Thy charms may rivalry eclipse, 
That all men may admire, 

I'd rather have a pair of lips 
To kiss beside the fire. 

VII. 

I've lost all hopes I ever built, 
Of being loved by thee — 

So, Lady, dazzle whom thou wilt, 
No more thou'lt dazzle me. 



UNDER THE VINE. 



Although my hand ne'er touch'd the tree 
Whence droop the ripe grapes temptingly, 
Nor strove to snatch those treasures red 
That smile to woo us overhead, 
I'd gather sweeter fruits than thou 
Couldst ever rifle from the bough, 
Were I beside thee, maiden mine, 
Beneath those branches of the vine. 

H. 

I'd gaze upon thy beaming eyes, 
And gather hopes and sympathies ; 
I'd sun me in those smiles so bright, 
And fill my heart with inward light \ 



56 SONGS FOK, MUSIC. 

I'd hear thy voice so low and clear, 
And cull sweet words I love to hear 
Thy willing hand in mine I'd press, 
And from its touch draw happiness. 



in. 

Fair from the bough the bunches dip, 
Cool treasures for the longing lip — 
All thine to gather; but for me, 
More fruits than ever swung from tree 
Lurk in the whispers of thy mouth, 
And overvalue all the south ; 
So gather, gather, maiden fine, 
Thy harvest cannot equal mine. 



THE FESTIVAL OF LABOUR. 
OPENING OF THE GKEAT EXHIBITION OF 1852. 

I. 

Gathek, ye nations, gather ! 

From forge, and mine, and mill I 
•Come, Science and Invention ; 

Come, Industry and Skill ! 
Come with your woven wonders, 

The blossoms of the loom, 
That rival Nature's fairest flowers 

In all but their perfume ; 



THE FESTIVAL OF LABOUR. 0/ 

Come with your brass and iron, 

Your silver and your gold, 
And arts that change the face of earth, 

Unknown to men ot old. 
Gather, ye nations, gather ! 

From every clime and soil, 
The new confederation, 

The jubilee of toil ! 

II. 

We strive not for dominion ; — 

"Whoe'er the worthiest be, 
Shall bear the palm and garland, 

And crown of victory. 
In kindly emulation 

His willing hand we'll seek, 
And own him brother and a friend, 

Whatever tongue he speak. 
Whate'er his clime or colour, 

His lineage or his creed, 
To him shall honour due be given 

For honourable deed. 
Gather, ye nations, gather ! 

Exalt them — for you can — 
The dignity of labour, 

The brotherhood of man ! 

in. 

The world is growing wiser, 

New thoughts and hopes are born ; 

Too long we've dwelt in darkness, 
And tarried for the morn. 



58 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Too long in foolish warfare 

We've dipp'd our bleeding hands ; 
But wisdom, taught by suffering keen, 

Comes beaming o'er the lands. 
Our princes and our people 

The grateful truth have learn'd, 
And strive for glory purer far 

Than Csesar ever earn'd. 
Gather, ye nations, gather ! 

Let ancient discords cease, 
And Earth, with myriad voices, 

Awake the song of Peace ! 



NOON-TIME IN THE SHADE. 
I. 
Far away — Oh far away 
From cities all this summer-day, 
On the fresh grass beneath the trees, 
Lull'd by the voice of birds and bees, 
And music of the boughs above, 
We'll sit, and sing and read of love, 
And quite forget — so happy, then — 
The tramp and crash of living men. 

ii. 

Far away — Oh far away — 
We will be selfish for a day, 
And flying from incessant strife, 
Live with the leaves a careless life ; 



NOON-TIME IN THE SHADE. 59 

One day ; — it is not much to crave ; — 
Out of the ocean, one small wave 
On which to float, nor seek to know 
How th' incessant world may go. 

in. 
Far away — Oh far away — 
I will sing my love a lay ; 
And she shall sit amid the flowers, 
And hear of ancient troubadours ; 
And if it please my fancy well 
My passion in disguise to tell, 
I'll woo my lady in a song, 
And she shall blush, nor think me wrong. 

IV. 

Far away — Oh far away — 
Thankful for a summer- day ; 
We will enjoy it like the leaves, 
Or ripening corn that never grieves, 
Or mellowing fruit upon the bough 
That blushes thanks for sunshine now ; 
Or lark that sings in heaven's blue cope — 
A thing too happy ev'n to hope. 

v. 

Far away — Oh far away — 
We'll make a gem of Time to-day : 
And should the future need the spark, 
We'll draw the jewel from the dark — 
Of all our jewels prized the best, 
And wear it upon Memory's breast, 
To show — whatever fate contrives — 
We once were happy in our lives. 



60 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

SUMMER RAIN. 

[Glee by Sib H. E. Bishop ] 



The mountain streams are silent 

Or whisper faint and low, 
The Earth is gratef 1 to the dews 
For moisture which the clouds refuse,— 

Blow, west wind, — blow ! 

And fall, O gentle Rain ! 
Awake the music of the bowers, 
Unfold the beauty of the flowers ; — 
The corn-fields long to hear thy voice, 
And woods and orchards will rejoice 
To see thee, gentle Rain ! 

ii. 

It comes ! The gushing wealth descends ! 
Hark ! how it patters on the leaves ! 
Hark ! how it drips from cottage eaves !— 
The pastures and the clouds are friends — 

Drop gently, gentle Rain ! 
The fainting corn-stalk lifts its head, 
The grass grows greener at thy tread, 

The woods are musical again ; — 
And from the hill-side springing, 
Down comes the torrent singing, 
With grateful nature in accord, 
A full-voiced anthem to the Lord, 
To thank Him for the Rain. 



RECONCILIATION. 6 1 



RECONCILIATION. 



'Tis true that you and I fell out, 
Yesterday ! 
I've no idea what about, 

Johnnie Gray ! 
I only know the sun shines on, 
Though yesterday be dead and gone, 
And through the trellis at the door 
The light conies dancing as before — 
Johnnie Gray ! 

ii. 

The evening follow'd glowing noon, 

Yesterday ! 
And driving clouds obscured the moon, 
Johnnie Gray t 
But night is past, and morn is here — 
The fields are green — the sky is clear — 
The rose and lily gleam with dew — 
And I've two loving lips for you, 

Johnnie Gray I 



62 SONGS FOK MUSIC. 



THE GIN-FIEND. 



The Gin-Fiend cast his eyes abroad, 

And look'd o'er all the land, 
And number'd his myriad worshippers 

With his bird-like, long right hand, 
He took his place in the teeming street, 

And watch'd the people go ; 
Around and about, with a buzz and a shout, 

For ever to and fro ; — 
"And it's hip !" said the Gin-Fiend, "hip, hurra! 

" For the multitudes I see, 
"Who offer themselves in sacrifice, 

" And die for the love of me." 



ii. 

There stood a woman on a bridge, 

She was old, but not with years — 
Old with excess, and passion, and pain, 

And she wept remorseful tears 
As she gave to her babe her milkless breast ; 

Then, goaded by its cry, 
Made a desperate leap in the river deep, 

In the sight of the passers-by ! 
"And it's hip!" said the Gin-Fiend, "hip, hurra! 

" She sinks ; — but let her be ! 
" In life or death, whatever she did, 

" Was all for the love of me." 



THE GIN-FIEND. 63 



III. 



There watch'd another by the hearth, 

With sullen face and thin ; 
She utter'd words of scorn and hate 

To one that stagger'd in. 
Long had she watch'd, and when he came 

His thoughts were bent on blood ; — 
He could not brook her taunting look, 

And he slew her where she stood. 
"And it's hip!" said the Gin-Fiend, "hip, hurra! 

" My right good friend is he ; 
" He hath slain his wife, he hath given his life, 

" And all for the love of me." 



IV. 

And every day, in the crowded way, 

He takes his fearful stand, 
And numbers his myriad worshippers 

With his bird-like, long right hand ; 
And every day, the weak and strong, 

Widows, and maids, and wives, 
Blood-warm, blood-cold, young men and old, 

Offer the Fiend their lives. 
* And it 's hip ! " he says, " hip ! hip ! hurra ! 

" For the multitudes I see, 
"That sell their souls for the burning drink, 

" And die for the love of me." 



64 SONGS FOB, MUSIC, 



THE GLADES OF WINDSOR. 

[James I. of Scotland was taken captive by the English in the eleventh 
year of his age. He was educated at Windsor Castle, and became the 
most accomplished prince of his time. He excelled particularly in poetry 
and music ; and on his return to Scotland, after a captivity of nineteen 
years, he introduced into his own land the music which he had learned in 
Windsor Castle. He is universally recognised as " the father of Scottish 
melody," and popular tradition ascribes to him the composition of many 
national airs. He has narrated, in his poem of " The King's Quir" (The 
King's Book), the romantic history of his love for the daughter of the Duke 
of Somerset — the beautiful Lady Jane Beaufort — whom he saw for the first 
time from a turret of Windsor Castle, as she was walking among her 
maidens. He afterwards married this lady, who became Queen of Scotland ; 
and during his unhappy reign of fourteen years, and in the tragic incident 
which ended his life, she conducted herself with a mingled gentleness and 
heroism which justified the passionate attachment of her husband, and 
which to this day shed a halo of light upon her name and memory.] 



Oh, fond is remembrance of time long departed ; 

Come, sit by my side, and the days I'll recall, 
When the present was bright to the young and true- 
hearted, 
And the fast-coming future seem'd brighter than all. 
Through each fair forest glade 
Of green Windsor we stray'd ; 
Our speech was a token, our silence a sign, 
And thy hand's gentle pressure, 
My heart's dearest treasure, 
First told me of love that responded to mine. 

ii. 

In the dark gloomy dawn of my life's early morning, 
When captive I pined for my home far away, 

I forgot all my foemen, — their gibes and their scorning, 
As soon as thy love shed a light on my way. 



a poor man's treasures. 65 

In that thrice-blessed hour 

When I gazed from the tower, 
And beheld thee below in thy beauty and grace ; 

With bondage contented, 

No more I lamented, 
But found a new hope in the heaven of thy face. 

in. 

The hope I then cherish'd has never deceived me, 

With thee all my days have been days of delight ; 
The world may have oft, but thou never hast grieved me. 
And always thy counsels have led me aright : 
Oh ! my love and my life, 
My heart's partner and wife, 
The weight of a crown is a burden of pain ; 
Sharp agonies line it, 
And might I resign it, 
'Twere sweet to be with thee in Windsor again. 



A POOR MAN'S TREASURES. 



Though I may be poor, if you reckon in coin, 

For wealth I'm too happy to sigh : 
I'm rich in some jewels no thief can purloin, 

And that Croesus himself could not buy. 
I've health, — that's a fortune — and, more ! 

My teeth are estates in their place ; — 
My nose — half a million could never restore 

A jewel, like that, to my face. 

F 



66 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

II. 

And then, IVe my. eyes ; not the throne of this land 

Could tempt me to part with but one. 
My senses, my limbs, and my willing right hand; 

Fresh air, and the light of the sun ; — 
With these and the friend that I love, 

And the heart that beats fondly for me, 
With Hope at my side looking calmly above, 

I'm rich as a mortal can be. 



PEOTESTATIONS. 

I. 

If the apple grow 

On the apple-tree ; 
And the wild wind blow 

O'er the wild wood free ; 
And the deep stream flow 

To the deeper sea ; 
And they cannot help growing, 
And blowing, and flowing, 

I cannot help loving thee. 

II. 
Yet if wild winds blew 

Never more on the lea ; 
And no blossoms grew 

On the healthy tree ; 
And the river untrue 

Escaped the sea ; 



IRELAND S WELCOME TO QUEEN VICTORIA. 

And they all had ceased blowing, 
And growing, and flowing, 
I'd ne'er cease loving thee. 

in. 

And till that hour, 

In the day or night ; 
In the bield or bower, 

In the dark or bright ; 
In the fruit or the flower, 

In the bloom or the blight : 
In my reaping or sowing, 
My coming or going, 

I'll ne'er cease loving thee. 



IRELAND'S WELCOME TO QUEEN VICTORIA.— 1849. 

[Air by John Smith, Mus. Doc, Dublin.] 



Sad Erin ! thy harp has been silent too long ; 

Its strings to thy touch throb responsive no more ; 
Thy voice, once attuned to the raptures of song, 

But raises a moan on thy desolate shore. 
Arouse thee, O Erin ! look up through thy tears ; 
The Queen of the Isles in thy havens appears, 

With sisterly love, and all sympathies true ; — 
Awaken thy harp — let it sound on her ears, — 

" Cead milefailte I — Erin aboo /" 
f 2 



68 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 

The night of thy sorrow shall melt in the morn ; 

Already the darkness gives place to the day ; 
And thy children, that sat on their thresholds forlorn, 

Look up to the sunshine that brightens the way. 
Exult, then, O Erin ! Victoria shall bring, 
For the winter now passing, the glories of spring — 

For the dark-beating tempest, clear vistas of blue ; — 
And the thousands now weeping shall smile as they sing, 

" Cead milefailte ! — Erin aboo /" 



in. 

As flowers track'd the steps of the fairies of old, 

And halos encircled the spots where they stood, 
So Confidence, strewing its blessings around, 

Shall follow the steps of Victoria the Good ! 
Arouse thee, O Erin ! with heart and with hand, 
She comes on an errand of love to thy strand ; 

Look up, with thy sons, ever fervent and true, 
And let the glad chorus resound through the land,- 

" Cead milefailte ! — Erin aboo /" 



JOY IN GRIEF. 69 



JOY IN GRIEF. 



Who is it shall complain 

Of the tempest and the rain ? 
Who is it shall make moan for the bitter biting blast ? 

Or chide the winter cold 

Nipping up the dreary wold, 
Or hang his heavy head when the skies are overcast ? 

Who is it shall complain 

Of the heritage of pain, 
Or call our sister Sorrow a tyrant and a foe ? 

Who weeps that he must die, 

When there y s life beyond the sky, 
And in the heai't of Nature a balm for every woe ! 

II. 

From the tempest and the rain 

Spring the plenty of the plain ; 
From the bitter biting blast flows the healing of the air ; 

From the cold of winter dull, 

And the clouds with moisture full, 
Come the cowslips of the meadow and the roses grow- 
ing fair. 

From the sorrow and the pain 

That oppress the heavy brain 
Come our strength and self-reliance ; we but suffer 
what we know : 

From the death that we deplore 

Springs the life for evermore ; 
Look up, O mournful spirit, there is joy in every woe. 



70 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



TO-DAY. 



The Breath of Morn, the opening rose, 

The Sun that shines above — 
The happy birds that soar and sing — 

The lips that whisper Love — 
Old Yesterday, though he be dead, 

Took none of these away ; 
He could not steal them if he tried, 

But left them for To-day. 



II. 

To-day shall not exhaust the gifts; — 

He's liberal in his turn — 
And though he die, shall fire not glow, 

And true affection burn 1 
But dark To-morrow ! Let him come ? 

We'll face him as we may ; — 
We'll change his name, but not his heart- 

And treat him as To-day. 



HOSPITALITY. 71 



HOSPITALITY. 



We may not praise the good old times 

For all that they record, 
When Wrong was Bight, if saucy Might 

Affirm'd it with the sword. 
The gate and bridge, the moat and tower, 

Were best defences then ; 
Rough hearts were served by sturdy hands 

And Force was king of men. 
But though our sires had errors great, 

Their virtues let us own ; 
They made the poor their welcome guests — 

They hush'd the widow's moan. 

ii. 

When redbreasts sought the garden plot, 

To pick the scanty crumb ; 
When winds blew cold o'er frozen wold, 

And all the groves were dumb ; 
When poverty and age were sad, 

To see the drifting flakes ; 
When widows kiss'd their orphan babes, 

And shudder'd for their sakes ; 
Then glow'd the fire upon the hearth 

In many an ancient hall ; 
The tables shook — the platters smoked — 

The poor were welcome all. 



72 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

III. 

Tlie ancient Virtue is not dead, 

And long may it endure ; 
May wealth in England never fail. 

Nor pity for the poor. 
Though cold inhospitable skies 

O'er-arch us as we stand, 
They cannot dull the genial hearts 

That glow within the land. 
And evermore when winds blow cold 

We'll imitate our sires — 
We'll spread the board — we'll feed the poor- 

We'll light the cottage fires. 



GOOD HEAET AND WILLING HAND. 



In storm or shine, two friends of mine 

Go forth to work or play ; 
And when they visit poor mens homes, 

They bless them by the way. 
'Tis Willing Hand ! 'tis Cheerful Heart, 

The two best friends I know ; 
Around the hearth come Joy and Mirth 

Where'er their faces glow. 
Come shine — 'tis bright i Come dark — 'tis right ! 

Come cold — 'twill warm ere long ! — 
So heavily fall the hammer-stroke ! 

Merrily sound the song ! 



GOOD HEART AND WILLING HAND. 73 

II. 

Who falls may stand, if good Right Hand 

Is first, not second best ; 
Who weeps may sing, if Kindly Heart 

Has lodging in his breast. 
The humblest board has dainties pour'd, 

When they sit down to dine : 
The crust they eat is honey sweet, 

The water's good as wine. 
They fill the purse with honest gold, 

They lead no creature wrong, 
So heavily fall the hammer-stroke ! 

Merrily sound the song ! 

in. 

Without these twain the poor com plain 

Of evils hard to bear, 
But with them Poverty grows rich, 

And finds a loaf to spare. 
Their looks are fire — their words inspire — 

Their deeds give courage high, 
About their knees the children run, 

Or climb they know not why. 
Who sails, or rides, or walks with them, 

Ne'er finds the journey long — 
So heavily fall the hammer-stroke ! 

Merrily sound the song ! 



74 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE LOST DAY. 

I. 

Farewell, oh day misspent ; 
Thy fleeting hours were lent 

In vain to my endeavour. 
In shade and sun 
Thy race is run 

For ever ! oh, for ever ! 
The leaf drops from the tree, 

The sand falls in the glass, 
And to the dread eternity 

The dying minutes pass. 

ii. 

It was not till thine end 

I knew thou wert my friend ; 

But now, thy worth recalling, 
My grief is strong 
I did thee wrong, 

And scorn'd thy treasures falling. 
But sorrow comes too late ; 

Another day is born; — 
Pass, minutes, pass ; may better fate 

Attend to-morrow morn. 

in. 

Oh, birth ! oh, death of Time ! 
Oh, mystery sublime ! 



THE LOST DAY. 

Ever the rippling ocean 
Brings forth the wave 
To smile or rave, 
And die of its own motion. 
A little wave to strike 

The sad responsive shore, 
And be succeeded by its like 
Ever and evermore. 

IV. 

A change from same to same- — 
A quench'd, yet burning flame, — 

A new birth, born of dying, — 
A transient ray, 
A speck of day, 

Approaching and yet flying. 
Pass to Eternity. 

O day, that came in vain ! 
A new wave surges on the sea — 

The world grows young again. 

v. 

Come in, To-day, come in ! 
I have confess' d my sin 

To thee, young promise-bearer ! 
New Lord of Earth ! 
I hail thy birth — 

The crown awaits the wearer. 
Child of the ages past ! 

Sire of a mightier line ! 
On the same deeps our lot is cast ! 

The world is thine — and mine ! 



76 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE KETUEN OF THE DOVE. 



There was Hope in the Ark at the dawn of the day, 
When o'er the wide waters the dove flew away ; 
But when ere the night she came wearily back 
With the leaf she had pluck'd on her desolate track, 
The children of Noah knelt down and adored, 
And utter'd in anthems their praise to the Lord. 
Oh bird of glad tidings ! oh joy in our pain ! 
Beautiful Dove ! thou art welcome again. 



ii. 

When peace has departed the care-stricken breast, 
And the feet of the weary one languish for rest ; 
When the world is a wide-spreading ocean of grief, 
How blest the return of the Bird and the Leaf ! 
Reliance on God is the Dove to our Ark, 
And peace is the olive she plucks in the dark. 
The deluge abates, there is sun after rain — 
Beautiful Dove ! thou art welcome again ! 



last year's leaves. 77 



LAST YEAR'S LEAVES. 



The last year's leaves are sere and brown, 
They float on winds and waters down ; 
And last year's joys, once green as they, 
Are shadows in the light of day. 

But who for leaves 

Sits down and grieves 1 
The tree that bore them lifts on high 
The boughs that live when blossoms die ; 

And we remain 

To hope again, 
And draw new sunshine from the sky. 

II. 

'Mid last year's leaves the cuckoo sang ; 
From last year's hopes our gladness sprang ; 
The cuckoo to the South has fled ; 
The promise and the joy are dead ; 

Yet who shall rue, 

Though this be true ? 
The song-birds but await the hours, 
When Spring shall lead them to her bowers ; 

And we who grow 

In joy or woe, 
Must look for frosts as well as flowers. 



78 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



LORD, WE ARE THANKFUL. 

I. 

Lord ! we are thankful for the air, 

For breath of life, for water fair, 

For morning burst, for noonday light. 

For alternation of the night, 

For place in Thy infinity, 

Lord ! we are thankful unto Thee. 

ii. 

For years and seasons as they run, 
For wintry cloud and summer sun, 
For seed-time and the autumn store 
In due succession evermore, 
For flower and fruit, for herb and tree, 
Lord ! we are thankful unto Thee. 

in. 

For beauty and delight of souud, 
That float Thy universe around ; 
For carol of the happy birds, 
For fall of streams, for gush of words, 
For music of the earth and sea, 
Lord ! we are thankful unto Thee. 

IV. 

For daily toil that we endure, 

For labour's recompense secure, 

For wholesome zest of appetite, 

For food and drink and slumbers light, 



TEARS. 

For vigorous health and pulses free, 
Lord ! we are thankful unto Thee. 

v. 

For fellowship with human kind, 
For pure emotions of the mind, 
For Joy, that were not joy sincere, 
Unless for Sorrow's previous tear ; 
For Hope, and Love, and Sympathy, 
Lord ! we are thankful unto Thee. 

VI. 

For Conscience, and its voice of awe — 
Thy whisper when we break Thy law, 
For knowledge of Thy power divine, 
And wisdom, mighty as benign, 
For all we are, and hope to be, 
Lord ! we are thankful unto Thee. 



TEARS. 

[Music by Sir H. R. Bishop.] 
1. 

ye tears ! O ye tears ! that have long refused to flow, 
Ye are welcome to my heart, — thawing, thawing, like 

the snow ; 

1 feel the hard clod soften, and the early snow-drops 

spring, 
And the healing fountains gush, and the wildernesses 



80 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

II. 

O ye tears ! O ye tears ! I am thankful that ye run ; 
Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in 

the sun. 
The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall, 
And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of 

all. 

in. 

ye tears ! O ye tears ! till I felt you on my cheek, 

1 was selfish in my sorrow, I was stubborn, I was weak. 
Ye have given me strength to conquer, and I stand 

erect and free, 
And know that I am human by the light of sympathy. 

IV. 

O ye tears ! O ye tears ! ye relieve me of my pain ; 
The barren rock of pride has been stricken once again : 
Like the rock that Moses smote, amid Horeb's burning 

sand, 
It yields the flowing water to make gladness in the land. 

v. 

There is light upon my path, there is sunshine in my 

heart, 
And the leaf and fruit of life shall not utterly depart. 
Ye restore to me the freshness and the bloom of long 

ago— 
O ye tears ! happy tears ! I am thankful that ye flow ! 



FORBEARANCE. 81 



FOKBEARANCE. 



I. 

Why should we pluck the dewy rose 

That scents the early morn, 
Or strive to snare the happy bird 

That warbles on the thorn ? 
We'll leave the flower to woo the sun, 

The free bird in the air ; 
And walk through pleasures, grasping none, 

Eepaid if we forbear. 

ii. 
When scorners scorn, or foes revile, 

Or friends look dark and shy, 
We'll neither give them scorn for scorn, 

Nor pass them coldly by ; 
We'll check the storm of rising pride, 

And keep a temper fair, — 
Warn'd by the Angel at our side, 

That whispers to forbear. 

in. 
And should the foe who did us wron<r 

Lie powerless in our hands, 
We'll think no more of evil done, 

To shame him where he stands. 
We'll strive to act a nobler part, — 

We'll pity — hear — and spare ; — 
And win an entrance to his heart, 

By all that we forbear. 

G 



82 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



A CEY FROM THE DEEP WATERS. 



From the deep and troubled waters 

Comes the cry ; 
Wild are the waves around me — 

Dark the sky : 
There is no hand to pluck me 
From the sad death I die. 



H. 

To one small plank, that fails me, 

Clinging low, 
I am dash'd by angry billows 

To and fro ; 
I hear death-anthems ringing 
In all the winds that blow. 



hi. 

A cry of suffering gushes 

From my lips, 
As I behold the distant 

White-sail'd ships 
O'er the dark waters gleaming 
Where the horizon dips. 



A CRY FROM THE DEEP WATERS. 83 

IV. 

They pass ; — they are too lofty 

And remote, 
They cannot see the spaces 

"Where I float. 
The last hope dies within me, 
With the gasping in my throat. 

v. 

Through dim cloud-vistas looking, 

I can see 
The new moon s crescent sailing 

Pallidly : 
And one star coldly shining 
Upon my misery. 

VI. 

There are no sounds in Nature 

But my moan, 
The shriek of the wild petrel 

All alone, 
And roar of waves exulting 
To make my flesh their own. 

VII. 

Billow with billow rages, 

Tempest-trod ; 
Strength fails me ; coldness gathers 

On this clod : 
From the deep and troubled waters 
I cry to Thee, my God ! 
g 2 



84 SO^GS FOR MUSIC. 



THE WITHEEED FLOWERS. 



Die ! flowerets, die ! 
Fade ! leaves of summer, fade ! 
Thus on the ground I strew 
Red rose and violet blue, 
Emblems on earth to lie 
Of all my wasted love, and all my hopes decay'd. 

II. 

Fair as the rose 
My youth put on its bloom ; 
But like these rose-leaves wan, 
Its joys have come and gone, 
And from their withering flows 
No fragrance after death to sanctify their tomb. 



. in. 

Hope was a flower 
Fairer, ye buds, than you ; 

But Hope — so sweet and bright — 
Has shrivell'd in the blight 
That smote its vernal hour, 
Nor Spring, nor all its balms, its freshness may renew. 



THE WITHERED FLOWERS. 85 



IV. 



And Love, young Love, — 
Fairer than all the rest ! 
It blossom'd at my feet, 
And with its odours sweet 
3 lade rich the air above ; 
I pluck' d it where it grew, and wore it on my breast. 

v. 

But woe is me ! 
Hid in that chalice fair 
A poisonous aspic crept, 
That stung me when I slept, 
And fill'd with agony 
The bosom that ne'er dreamt to find such traitor there. 



VI. 

Die, flowerets, all ! 
Fade, leaflets, on my heart ! 
Joy withers where it rose, 
Hope's fading eyelids close, 

And Love's sweet blossoms fall ; — 
The light of Life is dim, and all its blooms depart. 



86 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE GIANT. 



I. 
There came a Giant to my door, 

A Giant fierce and strong, 
His step was heavy on the floor, 

His arms were ten yards long. 
He scowl'd and frown'd; he shook the ground 

I trembled through and through ; — 
At length I look'd him in the face 

And cried : — " Who cares for you ?" 

II. 

The mighty Giant, as I spoke, 

Grew pale and thin and small, 
And through his body, as 'twere smoke, 

I saw the sunshine fall. 
His blood-red eyes turn'd blue as skies, 

He whisper'd soft and low. 
"Is this," I cried, with growing pride, 

"Is this the mighty foe?" 

in. 

He sunk before my earnest face, 

He vanish' d quite away, 
And left no shadow on his place 

Between me and the day. 
Such Giants come to strike us dumb — 

But weak in every part, 
They melt before the strong man's eyes, 

And fly the true of heart. 



THE MAGIC HARP. 87 



THE MAGIC HARP. 



Amid the trailing willows, 

By a deep dark stream, 
That heaved its restless billows 

In the moon's pale beam, 
A golden harp was hung, 
By magic fingers strung, 
That to the winds made music 

Sweet as angels dream. 

ii. 
A stranger heard it sighing 

In a soft sad tone, 
As if to Heaven replying, 

And the starry zone ; 
And struck th' enchanted strings, 
As the air is struck with wings, 
Till music fell like roses 

By the autumn blown. 

hi. 
Alas ! the hand that woke them 

Was too rude and strong ; 
The touch that thrill'd them, broke them 

In a mournful song. 
The golden strings were crush'd, 
Their harmonies were hush'd, 
In one wild burst of sadness 

Sounding far and long. 



88 



S0NG8 FOR MUSIC. 



IV. 

The earth, the air, the ocean, 

All that live and move, 
With ever-fond emotion, 

To repair them strove ; 
But still the task was vain 
To attune the harp again, 
And deep reproachful silence 
Fill'd that haunted grove. 



Alas ! O thoughtless stranger, 

Long shall we deplore 
The harp, un fearing danger, 

That such music bore. 
Weep ! for thou'st slain a joy, 
Thou melancholy boy ! — 
The music shall delight us 
Never more ! never more ! 



cr^&^z^&g^SL^ 



89 

THE EMIGRANTS, 
% Stm of Songs for g Pasital ffirdtiAmimtA. 

L— THE PARTING TEAR. 



Farewell, a last farewell, 

Land where our fathers dwell, 

More dear by parting made, 

Where we as children play'd, 

In meadows gath'ring flow'rs, 

And pass'd our happiest hours. 

Here on the beach we stand, 

Our home, our native land, 
And weep to think our feet shall tread thy shore, 
And our sad eyes behold thee, never more. 

II. 

Farewell, ye hills and streams, 

We'll see you in our dreams ; 

Each well-remember'd scene, 

The oak-trees on the green, 

The lowly cottage fire, 

The tapering village spire, 

And every little mound 

Grass-grown, on holy ground, 
Where sleep in death the friends whom we deplore ;- 
Farewell for ever ! we return no more. 



90 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 

III. 

No more ! no more ! our eyes 
Grow dim with tears, that rise 
Deep from the bursting heart, 
To know that we depart, 
And that the looks we cast 
So fondly are the last. 
Farewell, O native land ! 
A melancholy band, 
We long to go, yet linger on the shore,- 
Farewell for ever ! we return no more ! 



II.— CHEEE, BOYS ! CHEER ! 

I. 
Cheer, boys ! cheer ! no more of idle sorrow, 

Courage, true hearts, shall bear us on our way ! 
Hope points before, and shows the bright to-morrow, 

Let us forget the darkness of to-day ! 
So farewell, England ! Much as we may love thee, 

We'll dry the tears that we have shed before ; 
Why should we weep to sail in search of fortune ? 
So farewell, England ! farewell evermore ! 

Cheer, boys ! cheer ! for England, mother 
England ! 
Cheer, boys ! cheer ! the willing strong 
right hand, 
Cheer, boys ! cheer ! there's work for 
honest labour — 
Cheer, boys ! cheer ! — in the new and 
happy land. 



THE EMIGRANTS. 91 

II. 

Cheer, boys ! cheer ! the steady breeze is blowing, 

To float us freely o'er the ocean's breast ; 
The world shall follow in the track we're going, 

The star of empire glitters in the west. 
Here we had toil and little to reward it, 

But there shall plenty smile upon our pain, 
And ours shall be the mountain and the forest, 

And boundless prairies ripe with golden grain. 

Cheer, boys ! cheer ! for England, mother 
England ! 
Cheer, boys ! cheer ! united heart and 
hand ! — 
Cheer, boys ! cheer ! there's wealth for 
honest labour — 
Cheer, boys ! cheer ! — in the new and 
happy land ! 



III.— FAR, FAK UPON THE SEA. 



Far, far upon the sea, 

The good ship speediDg free, 

Upon the deck we gather young and old ; 
And view the flapping sail, 
Spreading out before the gale, 

Full and round without a wrinkle or a fold 
Or watch the waves that glide 
By the stately vessel's side, 



92 SONGS FOE, MUSIC. 

And the wild sea-birds that follow through the -air. 

Or we gather in a ring, 

And with cheerful voices sing, 
Oh ! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair. 

ii. 

Far, far upon the sea, 

With the sunshine on our lee, 
We talk of pleasant days when we were young, 

And remember, though we roam, 

The sweet melodies of home — 
The songs of happy childhood which we sung. 

And though we quit her shore, 

To return to it no more, 
Sound the glories that Britannia yet shall bear ; 

That " Britons rule the waves," 

" Aud never shall be slaves." 
Oh ! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair. 

in. 

Far, far upon the sea, 

Whate'er our country be, 
The thought of it shall cheer us as we go. 

And Scotland's sons shall join, 

In the song of "Auld lang Syne," 
With voice by memory soften'd, clear and low. 

And the men of Erin's Isle, 

Battling sorrow with a smile, 
Shall sing " St. Patrick's Morning," void of care ; 

And thus we pass the day, 

As we journey on the way ; — 
Oh ! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair. 



THE EMIGRANTS. 93 



IV.— LAND ! LAND ! 



Land ! Land ! Land ! 
The dangers of the deep are past, 
We're drawing near our home at last, 
"We see its outline on the sky, 
And join the sailors' welcome cry : 

Land ! land ! land ! 
Oh ! joyful thought for weary men, 
To tread the solid earth again ! 
And hark ! the church-bells pealing clear 
From spire and turret looming near, 
As if they rang so loud and free 
To bid us welcome o'er the sea. 

ii. 

Land ! land ! land ! 
The cry makes every heart rejoice ; 
Is this the country of our choice 1 
Is this the long-sought happy soil, 
Where plenty spreads the board of toil] 

Land ! land ! land ! 
How gladly through its paths we'll tread, 
With bounding step, uplifted head, 
And through its wilds and forests roam, 
To clear our farms, to build our home ; 
And sleep at night, and never dread 
That morn shall see us wanting bread. 



94 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 

Land ! land ! land ! 
"We've pass'd together o'er the sea, 
In storm and sunshine, comrades we ; 
But ere we part we'll gather round, 
And shout with one accord the sound : 

Land ! land ! land ! 
The land of rivers broad and deep, 
The land where he who sows may reap ; 
The land where, if we ploughmen will, 
"We may possess the fields we till ; 
So gather all, and shout once more, 
The land ! The land ! Hurrah for shore ! 



V.— TO THE WEST ! TO THE WEST ! 



To the West ! to the West ! to the land of the free, 
"Where mighty Missouri rolls down to the sea, 
Where a man is a man, if he's willing to toil, 
And the humblest may gather the fruits of the soil. 
Where children are blessings, and he who hath most, 
Hath aid for his fortune and riches to boast ; 
Where the young may exult, and the aged may rest, 
Away, far away, to the Land of the West ! 



THE EMIGRANTS. 95 

II. 

To the West ! to the West ! where the rivers that flow, 
Run thousand of miles, spreading out as they go ; 
Where the green waving forests that echo our call, 
Are wide as old England, and free to us all : 
Where the prairies, like seas where the billows have 

roll'd, 
Are broad as the kingdoms and empires of old ; 
And the lakes are like oceans in storm or in rest, 
Away, far away, to the Land of the West ! 

in. 

To the West ! to the West ! there is wealth to be won, 

The forest to clear is the work to be done : 

We'll try it, we'll do it, and never despair, 

While there's light in the sunshine, and breath in the 

air. 
The bold independence that labour shall buy, 
Shall strengthen our hands, and forbid us to sigh. 
Away ! far away ! let us hope for the best, 
And build up a home in the Land of the West I 



VI.— THE PIONEERS. 



Rouse ! brothers rouse ! we've far to travel, 
Free as the winds we love to roam, 

Far through the prairie, far through the forest, 
Over the mountains we'll flr>d a home. 



96 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 

We cannot breathe in crowded cities, 
We're strangers to the ways of trade ; 

We long to feel the grass beneath us, 
And ply the hatchet and the spade. 

II. 

Meadows and hills and ancient woodlands 

Offer us pasture, fruit, and corn ; 
Needing our presence, courting our labour ; — 

Why should we linger like men forlorn % 
We love to hear the ringing rifle, 

The smiting axe, the falling tree ; — 
And though our life be rough and lonely, 

If it be honest, what care we 1 

in. 

Fair elbow-room for men to thrive in ! 

Wide elbow-room for work or play ! 
If cities follow, tracing our footsteps, 

Ever to westward shall point our way ! 
Rude though our life, it suits our spirit, 

And new-born States in future years 
Shall own us founders of a nation — 

And bless the hardv Pioneers. 



THE EMIGRANTS. 97 



VII.— SUNSHINE AFTER RAIN. 



I left my Love in England, 

In poverty and pain ; 
The tears hung heavy in my eyes, 

But hers came down like rain. 
I gave her half of all I had, 

Eepress'd the rising sigh ; 
For thinking of the days to come, 

I kept my courage high. 
Farewell ! I said ; if seasons pass, 

And sunshine follows rain, 
And morning dawns on darkest night, 

You'll see me back again. 



II. 

I left my Love in England, 

And sail'd the stormy sea, 
To earn my bread by daily toil, 

An honest man and free. 
I wrought and strove from morn to night, 

And saved my little store ; 
And every summer gave me wealth, 

And made the little more. 
At length I bought the field I plough' d, 

The sunshine follow'd rain ; 
The morning dawn'd on heavy night, 

And I went back again. 

H 



98 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 



I sought my Love in England, 

And brought her o'er the sea ; 
A happy man, a happy wife, 

To bless my home and me. 
My farm is large, my wants are small ; 

I bid my care depart, 
And sit beneath my own oak-tree, 

With proud, yet grateful heart. 
The children smiling round the board, 

Ne'er ask for bread in vain ; 
'Tis balmy morning after night, 

'Tis sunshine after rain ! 



VIII.— WHEN I WAS A LITTLE CHILD. 



Rejoice, my son ! rejoice ! 

That thou'rt a child to-day, 
And not, as I, a full-grown man, 

With hair that's growing gray. 
The world is in its youth, 

And bad although it be, 
It shall be better for my son 

Than e'er it was for me. 
[New arts, new thoughts, new hopes, 

O'er all the earth have smiled, 
Since the bygone days, long, long ago 

When I was a little child. 



THE EMIGRANTS. 99 

II. 

Ere yet my years were ten, 

A weary lot was mine ; 
I wrought in coal-pits, damp and cold, 

And knew no summer shine. 
I never saw the sun 

But on the Sabbath-day ; 
I knew not how to read and write, 

And was not taught to pray. 
I never roam'd the field, 

Or pluck'd the flow'rets wild, 
Or had one innocent delight, 

When I was a little child. 



in. 

But thou ! my new-born son, 

Art come in happier hours ; 
And thou shalt flourish in the light, 

And carol in the bowers. 
Thou shalt enjoy the breath 

Of Spring-time and the morn, 
And learn to bless with grateful heart 

The day that thou wert born. 
For thee shall knowledge spread 

Her book with treasures piled, 
And tenderest love shall guide thy steps, 

Whilst thou art a little child. 



H 2 



100 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



IX. -THE CANADIAN SLEIGH SONG. 



The snow lies deep upon the ground, 

The north wind howls on high, 
The mountain-tops stand white and clear 

Against the dark blue sky ; 
The swamp is solid as the rock, 

The river flows no more ; 
And lakes are bridged by iron ice 

To bear us from the shore. 
The roughest roads are smooth as lawns, 

Bring out the merry sleigh ; 
Hark ! hark ! the music of the bells ! 

Away we go, away ! 



ii. 

The farmer and the farmer's wife 

Sit by the fire at home, 
And as they hear the piping blast, 

They pity those who roam. 
But we find pleasure out of doors, 

And fear no wild wind's wrath ; 
And, swift as swallows o'er the pool, 

We cleave ourselves a path. 
There's fresh delight in rapid flight, 

Bring out the merry sleigh ; 
Hark ! hark ! the music of the bells ! 

Away we go, away ! 



THE EMIGRANTS. 101 

III. 

Five hundred miles our course we'll keep, 

And though the way be long, 
We'll find a welcome at the end, — 

A welcome and a song. 
Around our father's cheerful hearth 

The Yule-log sparkles bright, 
And happy faces gather there 

To spend the Christmas-night. 
We'll join them ere the week be old, 

Bring out the flying sleigh ! 
Hark ! hark ! the music of the bells ! 

Away we go, away ! 



X.— -DOWN WITH THEM. 



Down with them ! down with the lords of the forest ! 
Down to the earth with each high-spreading tree ! 
Proud as they stand, 
They shall yield to my hand, 
To build up a home for my children and me. 
Kings of the wilderness, ancient and hoary, 
Old when Columbus set foot on the shore, 
I breathe with the winds a last sigh f jr their glory, 
The pride of a land they must cumber no more. 



102 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

II. 

Man, the new monarch, decrees they must perish, — 
Everything crumbles to timely decay ; 
Cities and towns, 
Mighty sceptres and crowns, 
Flourish and glitter — and vanish away. 
Down with them, down ! it is dark in their shadow, 

Gloomy and chill in the light of the morn ; 
We've need of their place for the grass of the meadow, 
We've need of the sunshine to ripen the corn. 

in. 

Long have they harbour'd the 'coon or the savage, 
But Change is the master of great and of small ; — 
Down let them lie, 
Though so mighty and high, — 
Merry's the music that rings to their fall ! 
Sweet human voices shall sound through the good land 
Where the wolf howl'd, and the fox wander'd free ; — 
Down to the earth with the lords of the woodland ! 
Down to the earth with each high-spreading tree ! 



XI.— UP THE STEEAM ! THKOTJGH THE WOOD ! 



Up the stream ! through the wood ! Winter is past, 
Hush'd is the cold angry voice of the blast ; 
Soft blow the breezes, and bright shines the day ; 
The fountains are gushing, the roses are blushing, 
And rivers are rushing ; away, lads, away ! 



THE EMIGRANTS. % 103 

Unruffled and blue, with the light on her breast, 
Lake Erie lies calm, like an ocean at rest. 
So gather, make ready, with rifle and bow, 
And up the stream ! through the woods ! row, my 
lads, row ! 

ii. 

Up the stream, through the wood, thousands of miles ! 
Breasting the rapids, and rounding the isles ; 
Ours is the wilderness, come when we may, 
Teeming with treasure, and all for our pleasure, — 
Our pleasure and profit ; away, lads, away ! 
The nuggets we find are the squirrel and coon, 
The beaver and white wolf that howls to the moon ; 
So gather, make ready, with rifle and bow, 
And up the stream ! through the woods ! row, my 
lads, row ! 

in. 

Up the stream, through the wood, hardy and bold, — 
'Twould curb our free souls to go digging for gold ; 
There's wealth in the forest — black, white, brown, and 

gray; 
Our sport is to find it, and danger — who'd mind it 1 
'Tis danger gives pleasure — away, lads, away ! 
The full-bosom'd rivers flow merrily on ; 
The summer is short, 'tis our time to be gone ; 
So gather, make ready, with rifle and bow, 
And up the stream ! through the woods ! row, my 

lads, row ! 



104 SONGS FOB. MUSIC. 



XII.— LONG PAETED HAVE WE BEEN. 



Long parted have we been, 
With an ocean wide between, 
Since the weary day we left them on our good old 

^English shore, 
And we took a last farewell to return to them no more. 
But they're coming, coming, coming, 
They are coming with the flowers, 
They are coming with the summer, 
To this new land of ours : 

And we'll all forget our sadness, 
And shake their hands with gladness, 
And bid them joyous welcome to this new land of ours. 

II. 

How often have we pray'd 
They were here, both youth and maid, 
The friends, the dear relations, and the lovers fond and 

true, 
To share our better fortune, and all the joys we knew. 
And they're coming, coming, coming, 
They are coming with the flowers, 
They are coming with the summer, 
To this new land of ours : 

And we'll give them cordial greeting, 
And have a merry meeting, 
And a day of true rejoicing in this new land of ours. 



THE EMIGRANTS. 105 



III. 



In all our happiness 
There seem'd a joy the less, 
When we look'd around and miss'd them from the fire- 
side's cheerful glow — 
The old familiar comrades that we loved so long ago. 
But they're coming, coming, coming, 
They are coming with the flowers, 
They are coming with the summer, 
To this new land of ours : 

It needs but their embraces, 
And all their smiling faces, 
To make us quite contented in this new land of ours. 



106 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

ENGLAND, DEAR ENGLAND. 

[Music by Chaeles Mackat.] 



Where is the slave who, of England despairing, 

Aids not her cause when she summons her sons? 
Where is the knave who, when foemen are daring, 
Parleys for safety, or crouches and runs 1 

England ne'er grew them, 

Her soil never knew them, 
Wholesome's the earth in our isle of the sea. 

Our maidens would flout them, 

Our children would scout them, 
We'd hoot them with scorn from our land of the free. 



II. 

England, dear England, our fathers before us 

Bled for thy freedom, and left us their fame I 
England our darling ! the mothers who bore us 
Gave us their blessing entwined with thy name ! 

Ours be the glory 

To better thy story, 
Lofty and pure be thy banner unfurl'd. 

If great we receive thee, 

Still greater we'll leave thee, 
England, dear England, the Queen of the world. 



THE GLORY OF THE FLAG. 107 



THE GLORY OF THE FLAG. 



Raise high the flag of England ! 

The meteor of the fight ! 
That never flash'd on battle-field 

Except to lead the right ; 
That never graced the triumphs 

Of tyrants o'er their hosts, 
Or carried Rapine and Revenge 
To unoffending coasts. 
Unfurl it high 
In purity, 
The flag without a stain ; 
That we men, 
The free men, 
May swear by it again ! 



ii. 

Wherever it has floated, 

Upon the sea or land, 
Has Trade, the world-adorning, stretch'd 

Her civilizing hand ; 
And Enterprise has ventured 

Her argosies high piled ; 
And Science strew'd the earth with flowers, 

And kindly Knowledge smiled. 
For deeds like these, 
O'er land and seas 



108 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Our flag has been unfurl'd ; 

And we men 

The free men, 
Can boast them to the world. 

in. 

Be these thy triumphs ever, 

Oh, banner of our sires ! 
May never War unfurl thy cross, 

To gleam above her fires ; 
May civil strife ne'er plant thee 

Upon the plain or hill ; 
But Peace, Discovery, Love, and Joy 
Exalt and wave thee still. 
O'er smiling downs 
And prosperous towns 
Float proudly, as of yore ! 
That we men 
The free men, 
May love thee evermore ! 

IV. 

Yet, if a tyrant urge us 

To vindicate the right, 
How great soe'er his power and fame, 

We'll raise thee in the fight. 
Our sons shall see thee flashing, 

And conquer in the van — 
Shall rival Alma's gory field, 

And nobler Inkermann ! 
Whate'er they do, 
The brave and true, 



WEARY WARFARE. 109 

Thy fame shall flourish fair; 

And no man 

A foeman 
Shall touch thee — if he dare ! 



WEARY WARFARE. 

I. 

All nature takes the part 
Of the sorrow in my heart — 

Takes the voice of my lamenting all the night and all 
the day ! 

I hear a sweet bird singing, 
On a branch of willow swinging, 

And evermore, for evermore, the sad song seems to say : 
" Oh ! worthless are the laurels 
" To be gained in kingly quarrels, 

" And the phantom glory gather d in the death-fields 
of the fray." 

II. 

The passing west-wind grieves 
As it rustles 'mid the leaves — 

I cannot close my fancy to its low incessant moan ; 
Against my casement beating, 
Still the rain-drops keep repeating — 

And evermore, for evermore, the one desponding tone : 
" Oh ! day of desolation, 
" When nation wars with nation, 

" When homes and hearts are broken, and realms are 
overthrown." 



110 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 



The trumpet's boasting voice, 

Bidding multitudes rejoice, 
Speaks of murder, not of glory, and of death, not 
victory. 

The joy-bells loudly pealing 

But awake the same sad feeling ; 
And evermore, for evermore, seem sounding mournfully, 

" O battles red and gory ! 

" A melancholy glory, 
" O weary weary warfare, that steals my love from me!" 



MOUEN FOE THE MIGHTY DEAD. 

[Music by Sir H. R. Bishop.] 
I. 

Mourn for the mighty dead, 
Mourn for the spirit fled, 
Mourn for the lofty head — 

Low in the grave ! 
Tears such as nations weep 
Hallow the hero's sleep ; 
Calm be his rest,, and deep, — - 

Arthur the brave ! 

II. 

Nobly his work was done ; 
England's most glorious son- 
True-hearted Wellington, 
Shield of our laws ! 



STREW ROSES — GATHER GARLANDS. Ill 

Ever in peril's night 
Heaven send such arm of might — 
Guardian of Truth and Right, — 
Raised in their cause ! 



in. 

Dried be the tears that fall ; 
Love bears the warrior's pall. 
Fame shall his deeds recall — 

Britain's right hand ! 
Bright shall his memory be ! 
Star of supremacy ! 
Banner of Victory ! 

Pride of our land ! 



STEEW EOSES— GATHEE GAELANDS. 
A SONG OF VICTORY. 

[Music by Feafk Mori.] 

I. 

Strew roses — gather garlands fair ; 

To bind the victors' brows bring laurels bright : 
And let a nation's voice declare 

Their high reward who conquer'd in the right ! 
At duty's call the deed was done, 
Each blow they struck was Freedom won : 
While Britain stands, 
Our happy lands 
Shall tell their names and bless them, sire and son. 



112 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



As long as England's banner flies, 

Their gallant deeds our grateful youth shall tell ; 
And British maids, with beaming eyes, 

Shall sing the song of those who fought and fell. 
As long as in our hearts shall glow 
The ancient fire, their fame shall show 
What built our state 
And made us great, 
And what, though foes combine, shall keep us so. 



THOUGH SAD WAS OUR PARTING. 

I. 

Though sad was our parting, his courage was high, 
And he bade us farewell with a smile and a sigh : 
'Twas Duty that led him, her light was his star, 
And a pathway of glory allured him afar ; 
And we knew that whatever his joy or his pain, 
Eis heart would be with us in England again. 

II. 

The love that we bore him was warm and sincere. 
And our hope for his welfare was dark with our fear. 
Alas ! for the flower that was gather'd so soon ! 
Alas ! for the light that was quench'd in its noon ! 
The world may forget him, but we shall deplore, 
And cherish his name in our hearts evermore. 






113 

WHO'D EATHER BE OPPKESS'D THAN FIGHT ? 

[Music by J. L. Hatton.] 



Who'd rather be oppress'd than fight ? 
Low, low, low, let him lie ! 

Let him feed among the sheep 

Where the meadow-waters creep, 
Growing fat till the danger's nigh. 

Not for him or such as he 

To hold council with the free ; 
Let him browse while the wolf is in its den ;- 

And thank his happy fate, 

When the foe is at the gate, 
That he lives in the sight of men. 

II. 

Who'd purchase peace at honour's loss ? 

Low, low, low, let him lie ! 
He was born to be a slave ; 
His own soul his fetters gave ; 

He's a fool for a knave to buy. 
Not for him a word to breathe 
When the brave their swords unsheathe, 
And Peril calls to Duty, saying "Come!" 
In the council he'd betray, 
In the fight he'd run away ; 
Let him grovel in the dirt and be dumb. 
I 



114 SONGS FOK MUSIC. 

III. 

Who values honour more than life ? 
High, high, high, let him stand ! 

We have need of such as he, 

The defenders of the free, — 

The glory and the pride of the land. 

When a coward sues for peace, 

Though awhile the war may cease, 
'Tis but respite that he begs from the strong : 

But the peace that heroes gain, 

In the fiery battle-plain, 
Shall defy the world to break it — in the wrong. 



THE JOY-BELL AND THE KEQUIEM. 

[Music by Feasts Moei.] 
I. 

King the joy-bells, chime on chime ! 

Sound the peal from shore to shore ; 
Steadfast, dauntless, and sublime, 

England conquers as of yore. 
And let the people's voice 
O'er all the land rejoice, 

That in the great immortal fight, 
The glorious living and the dead, 
For Freedom arm'd, for Justice bled, 

And conquer'd in the right. 

II. 

Sound the requiem, loud and clear ! 

England weeps her children slain, 
Mourns, with sympathy sincere, 

Heroes lost, but not in vain. 



ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 115 

And let the solemn peal 
A nation's grief reveal : 

Yet be the tears of sorrow dried ; — 
We owe their babes a glorious debt ; 
And grief is vain if it forget 

The claims of those who died. 

in. 
Ring the joy-bells, light the blaze ! 

And let the deep-voiced cannon roar ! 
Join all hands in prayer and praise, 

England conquers as of yore. 
On red Oppression's grave 
She liberates the slave ; — 

She aids the weak, she curbs the strong ; 
She arms ; — and hopeful nations pray ; 
She arms — she fights — she wins the day ; — 

And Right succeeds to Wrong. 



ENGLAND AND FBANCE ;— 1855. 

[Music by Mrs. Joseph Kirkman.] 

I. 

Who dare disturb the lands, 
Arming their felon bands, 
Lifting their blood-red hands? 

Let them advance ! 
Two mighty states combined, 
Both of one heart and mind, 
Combat for humankind, — 

England and France. 
i 2 



116 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



Friends of the rightful cause, 
Guardians of Europe's laws ; — 
Guilt in its schemes shall pause, 

Awed by your glance. 
Where your twin banners wave, 
Freedom shall bless the slave \ — - 
Glory shall crown the brave, — 

England and France. 

in. 

Foes of our peace and right, 
Tempt not the useless fight, 
Tain is your arm of might, — 

Vain, sword and lance ;- 
True hearts repeat the cry, 
England and Liberty ! 
England and Victory ! 

England and France I 



117 



ENGLAND OYER ALL. 

[Music by Frank Mori.] 



Little England ! great in story ! 

Mother of immortal men ! 
Great in courage ! great in glory ! 

Dear to Freedom's tongue and peir ! 
if the world combine to brave thee, 

English hearts will dare the fight — 
English hands will glow to save thee, 
Strong for England and the right ! 
England over all, 
Whatsoe'er befall ! 
If we live or die, 
This shall be our cry — 
England over all ! 

II. 

Weaker nations, over-zealous, 

May desire thine overthrow ! 
Selfish tyrants, vainly jealous, 

May conspire to strike thee low. 
Let them strive with armies banded, 

Let them plot with fool and knave, 
England, strong, and single-handed, 

Shall defy them to enslave ! 
England over all, 
Whatsoe'er befall ! 



118 SONGS FOli MUSIC. 

If we live or die, 

This shall be our cry — 

Ed gland over all 1 

in. 

England first in art and science, 

First in letters, first in fame — 
Earth's example and reliance, 

Free and worthy of the name. 
.Realms, the light of freedom spurning, 

Rise and fall and pass away ; 
England, with that lantern burning, 
Stands superior to decay. 
England over all, 
Whatsoe'er befall ! 
If we live or die, 
This shall be our cry — 
England over all ! 



THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 

[Air : Old English.] 



Firm as England's coast, 

Yvhen the tempests blow, 
Stood the British line, 

And foil'd the advancing foe. 
The fierce Napoleon sigh'd to win the day, 
But AVellington was calm — the master of the fray. 



THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 119 

He saw the time had come, — 
Blow trumpets ! beat the drum ! — 
And when the order flew 
Like light o'er Waterloo, 
And the great immortal strife begun : 
"Now be brief," 
Said the chief; 
u We'll excel all the deeds we have done ; — 
Follow me, 
You shall see 
How the battle should be iought and won!" 



II. 

Key and all his men, 

Never known to fail, 
Fled in sudden rout, 

Like storms of rattling hail. 
The old Imperial Guard — Napoleon's boast — 
Dissolved before the shock of the mighty British host ; 
And Blucher, found at last, 
Came sweeping like a blast. 
The knell of France had peal'd ; 
The Frenchmen fled the field ; 
The great Napoleon saw he was undone ; — 
"Follow me!" 
Then said he ; 
u All is lost ! — they are coming ! — let us run ! 
Sauvons-nous I 
They pursue ! 
And the battle has been lost and won !" 



120 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 



Thus the fight was fought, 

Not for vain renown, 
Not for sake of war, 

Or mad ambition's crown ; 
But for the sake of peace, unknown so long, 
To give the world repose from tyranny and wrong. 
And thus for evermore, 
Unconquer'd as before, 
May Britain stand her ground, 
And Wellingtons be found 
To wave her glorious banner to the sun ; 
And to lead, 
When we need, 
Crying, " Englishmen ! the strife has begun ! 
Follow me ! 
You shall see 
How the battle should be fought and won !" 



OUE SWOEDS ABE SHEATHED. 

I. 

Our swords are sheathed, 
The flag droops idly clown, 

Our shields are laurel- wreathed — 
There's peace in bower and town. 

But should a foreign tyrant 
Insult us where we stand, 



DERWENTWATER. 121 

Or foes invade, we'll draw the blade, 
And sweep them from the land. 

Bless' d are our swords, if Justice 
Have made them keen and strong, 

But shame shall be their portion, 
Who battle in the wrong. 

II. 

Our fame and might 

Have rung throughout the world, 
And ever in the right 

Our flag has been unfurl'd. 
And if our foes, forgetful, 

Should tempt our guardian wave, 
"We'll find for each, upon the beach, 

Destruction and a grave. 
So let them come! — we care not! 

'Tis Freedom makes us strong ; 
And shame shall be their portion 

Who battle in the wrong! 



DERWENTWATER. 

[Air: Old English.] 

I. 

Sweet lake of the mountains! how happy was I 
When life's sunny morn had no cloud on its sky, 
And I Toam'd with my love on thy beautiful shore, 
To hear the deep music that gush'd from Lodore ! 



122 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



We sail'd on thy waters, rejoicing alone, 
Or trod thy green islands, and call'd them our own, 
And built, 'mid the hills that encircle thy breast, 
A bower and a home in the wilds of the West. 

in. 

But sorrow has darken'd the noon of our day, 
And peril and doubt have encompass'd our way ; 
My heart's only love in captivity lies, 
And thy glory, Derwent ! is dimm'd in mine eyes. 

IV. 

Sad lake of the mountains, through dangers I roam, 
With a pang in my heart and a blight on my home, 
To dream of the joys that shall bless me no more, 
And mingle my sighs with the moan of Lodore. 



TELL ME, OH TELL ME. 

[Music by Frank Mori.] 
I. 

Tell me, oh tell me, Rose of the morn, 

What whispers the dew on thy breast ; 
Tell me, oh tell me, blossoming Thorn, 

Thy vows to the wind of the west. 
Soft flowing River, seeking the sea, 
What saith the moonlight sleeping on thee ? 
" Love ! " said the Rose and the Hawthorn of May 
And "Love," said the River, "for ever and aye !" 



THE CHEERFUL HEART. 123 

II. 

Tell me, oh tell me, Blush on her cheek, 
What makes thee as red as the rose ; 

Tell me, oh tell, for I know ye can speak, 
Sweet Smiles, what your meanings disclose. 

Eyes of my dear one ! stars of my night ! 

What is your secret, beaming with light ? 

" Love !" said the Blush and the Smile that she wore ; 

And " Love," said the dark Eyes, " true Love ever- 
more I" 



THE CHEERFUL HEART. 



Though Love may claim the sweetest song, 
And bards the tender strain prolong ; 
Though Friendship evermore inspire 
The answering echoes of the lyre ; 
Still a theme remains to sing, 
Fair as sunshine, fresh as spring, 
Rainbow seen when storms depart, — 
The charm of life, the Cheerful Heart. 

II. 

Should Love grow cold, or Friendship wane, 
'Tis this can win them back again ; 
And Hatred, in its own despite, 
Will yield and soften in its light. 



124 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Still around our path it throws 
Bloom and balm and budding rose, 
Warmth amid the winter showers, 
And honey to the summer flowers. 

in. 

And happy shall his portion be, 
Whatever sorrows he may see, 
Who, when his daily toils are o'er, 
Shall meet this blessing at his door, 
Finding still, where'er he roam, 
Kindest welcome at his home ; 
Fortune's shield, life's better part — 
The loving and the cheerful heart. 



WHY DO I LOYE THEE ? 

Why do I love thee *? Lips that would tell thee 

Would ]ose more sweet employ ; 
My grief hath a reason, 
My pain hath a season, 

But not my love or joy. 
Ask the stream why it flows, 
Ask the wind why it blows, 

Or the bird why it sings on the tree ; 
And if they reply, love, 
I'll tell thee, or try, love, 

My reasons for loving thee. 



125 



DIFFERENCES. 



The king can drink the best of wine ; 

So can I : 
And has enough when he would dine — ■ 

So have I ; 
He cannot order rain or shine ; 

Nor can I. 
Then, where's the difference — let me see — 
Betwixt my lord the king and me 1 

ii. 

Do trusty friends surround his throne 

Night and day 1 
Or make his interest their own ? 

No — not they : — 
Mine love me for myself alone, 

Bless'd be they ! 
And that's one difference which I see, 
Betwixt my lord the king and me. 

in. 

Do knaves around me lie in wait, 
Or faw T n and flatter when they hate 

And would grieve ? 
Do cruel pomps oppress my state 

By my leave ] 
No ! Heaven be thank'd ! and here you see 
More difference 'twixt the king and me 1 



126 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

IV. 

He has his fools, with jests and quips, 

When he'd play ; 
He has his armies and his ships — 

Great are they ! 
But not a child to kiss his lips, 

Well-a-day ! 
And that's one difference, sad to see, 
Betwixt my lord the king and me. 



v. 

I wear the cap and he the crown ; — 

What of that ? 
I sleep on straw and he on down ; — 

What of that ? 
And he's the king and I'm the clown ; — 

What of that 1 
If happy I, — and wretched he, — 
Perhaps the king would change with me ! 






-~-*^g££®ggsgz?-^ 



127 



SORROWS ; 

OR, 

THE STONE, THE CLOD, AND THE HARP. 



In spring or summer sleeps the Stone 

All night, all morrow, — 
When falls the snow, or storms are blown, 

It feels no sorrow ; — 
Calm on the teeming soil it lies, 
Untroubled by the earth or skies — 

Oh, happy Stone, devoid of sorrow ! 

II. 

In rain or sunshine lies the Clod, 

The child of sorrow ; 
Bearing to-day the gifts of God ; — 

Cut down to-morrow ; 
Feeling the joy of summer flowers, 
The pain of winter frost and showers ; — 

Oh, luckless Clod, alive to sorrow ! 

in. 

But oh ! the delicate golden Harp 

A quiverer thoro' ! 
Through all its woof one finger-warp 

May weave shrill sorrow ; — 
It feels the ray of sun or moon, 
The breeze can jar it out of tune ; — 

Oh, mournful Harp, that throbs to sorrow ! 



128 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



IV. 

But rather than the Stone, unworn 

By night or morrow, 
I'd be the Clod that bears the corn, 

And suffers sorrow ; 
Or, better still, the Harp, whose strains 
Have countless joys as well as pains — 

Oh, passionate Harp of Joy and Sorrow ! 



THE EVENINGS. 

[Music by Charles Mackay.] 



In the Summer Evening, 

When the winds blew low, 
And the skies were radiant 

With the sunset's glow, 
Thou and I were happy, 

Long, long years ago. 
Love, the young and hopeful, 

Hover'd o'er us twain, — 
Fill'd us with sad pleasure 

And delicious pain ; 
In the Summer Evenings, 

Wandering in the lane. 



LADY VAIN. 129 



II. 



In the Winter Evenings, 

When the wild winds roar, 
Blustering at the chimney, 

Piping at the door, 
Thou and I are happy 

As in days of yore. 
Love still hovers o'er us, 

Robed in white attire, 
Drawing heavenly music 

From an earthly lyre ; 
In the Winter Evenings, 

Sitting by the fire. 



LADY VAIN. 



Come hither, hither, Lady Vain. 

And learn a truth from me, — - 
It is not every acorn 

That grows into a tree ; 
It is not every rain-drop 

That falls into the sea, 
Nor every fawning flatterer 

Who has a heart for thee. 
K 



130 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 



II. 



Come hither, hither, Lady Vain, 

So blithe and debonair, — 
It is not every blossom 

That decks a maiden's hair; 
It is not every whisper 

That may the truth declare, 
Nor every fool who tells thee so, 

Who loves thee to despair. 



SCEPTRE, CROWN, AND THRONE. 



What is a sceptre, but a staff, 
Though not so long as mine by half? 
And I've a staff, a friend to me ; — 
I cut it from the blackthorn tree. 
IsTo gold or jewels round it flaunt, — 
'Tis all the sceptre that I want ; 
So let the king enjoy his own, 
I doubt it costs him many a groan ;— 

Mine, not so, 

That I know ; 
As free from splendour as from care ;- 
Despise my sceptre, if you dare ! 



SCEPTRE, CROWN, AND THRONE. 131 

II. 

And what's a crown, if not a cap, — 

A cumbrous, heavy thing, mayhap 1 

And I've a cap of easy size, 

That shields my head, and shades mine eyes ; 

A fence around my whole estate, 

Wherein no lurking traitors wait. 

So let the king enjoy his crown, 

And line it well with fur and down, 

Sparkling bright 

In the light, 
'Twill seam his forehead deep w r ith care ;— 
Despise my fur-cap, if you dare! 

in. 

And what's a throne, if not a seat 
Too high for love to reach its feet ? 
And I've a chair at my fireside, 
That's made for use, and not for pride. 
Around its elbows, worn and old, 
The children shake their locks of gold ; 
So let the king enjoy his throne, 
Unloved, unloving, and alone. 

Come to me, 

If you'd see 
An easy throne, a queen most fair ; — 
Despise my kingdom, if you dare ! 



k2 



132 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

OLD JOHN JENKINS. 
I. 

"Love is false !" said old John Jenkins; 

" False and selfish, proud and vain ; 
" Brittle ice in age's winter, 

"In life's summer storm and rain." 

n. 

Jenkins, Jenkins, old John Jenkins, 
Milk grows sour, and so do you ; 

Jaundiced eyes make dark the sunshine, 
And discolour heaven's true blue ! 

in. 

6i Friendship cheats ! " quoth old John Jenkins,- 

" Shows its taper best by day ; 
" Borrows money when you're wealthy, 

" When you're needy flies away." 

IV. 

Jenkins, Jenkins, old John Jenkins, 
Leave us Hope while life is new ; 

Memory fails or sense forsakes you — 
You've perverted all you knew ! 

v. 

" Fame *s the breath of foolish people ; 

" Wine 's a headache, gold 's a snare ; , 
" Beauty plagues us, glory slays us ; 

" Nothing 's good, and nothing 's fair." 



THE BLESSED RAIN. 133 



VI. 



Jenkins, Jenkins, old John Jenkins, 
You are rotten through and through ; 

If this world have lost its flavour, 
Try the next, you growler, do ! 



THE BLESSED KAIN. 

My love took shelter under the tree 

From rain, the summer rain, 
And I, by love made bold and free, 
Took shelter with her in the lee 
Of the wide, high-spreading chestnut-tree, 

And bless'd the rain, the rain. 
Quoth I, "Dost think the storm will pass]*' 5 
Quoth she, " I'm but a silly lass." 
Quoth I, " True love hath rainbow-light." 
Quoth she, " Most beautiful and bright ' 
Quoth I, " My love is hard to tell." 
Quoth she, " Come close, I'll listen well ! " 
Oh, rain ! oh, rain ! 
Oh, blessed rain ! 
No sunshine ever shall come again, 
So dear to me as that stormy rain ! 



134 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE IRON SHIP. 

[Air: Old English.] 



She was not born 'mid rain or dew, 
Nor in the sunshine ever grew ; 
]STo lordly monarch of the wood 
Fell in his glory where he stood, 

That she might flourish fair and free. 
But down, a thousand fathoms down, 
Where stretch the roots of mountains brown, 
We drew the iron for her frame, 
And built her up, 'mid smoke and flame, 

To sail, the mistress of the sea. 

ii. 

The hammer fell, the anvil rung, 
As she to shape and beauty sprung ; 
In mimic lightnings she was nursed, 
And cradled in their thunder-burst ; 

And now we launch her fair and free, 
To brave alike the tempest-stroke, 
And Are, that slays the " heart of oak ; " 
The iron conqu'ror of the main, 
May danger track her path in vain, 

The queen and glory of the sea 1 



135 



FAREWELL TO THEE, EXGLAXD. 

I. 

Farewell to thee, England ! oh, land of our birth, 
The pride and the glory and queen of the earth ! 
We sail with sad hearts to a land far away, 
In search of the bread that may fail if we stay. 
New faces glow bright in the blaze of our fires. 
Tbe stranger sits down in the halls of our sires. 
Farewell ! oh, farewell to thy beautiful shore ! 
England ! dear England ! farewell evermore ! 

II. 

We've courage to lead us ; there's strength in our 

hands ; 
There's wealth to be won in the far-distant lands ; 
For us and our children are acres to spare, 
And the name of our fathers forbids to despair. 
There are homes in the world for the honest and free. 
And kingdoms and empires to found o'er the sea. 
We quit not in anger thy beautiful shore ; 
'Tis with tears that we bid thee farewell evermore ! 

in. 
Farewell ! oh, farewell ! In the land where we go 
Our heart's deep affection shall lighten our woe ; 
Thy manners, thy language, thy faith, and thy fame, 
Shall follow our footsteps, and flourish the same ; 
Thy virtues shall live in the songs that we sing, 
And the tales that we tell to thy glory shall cling. 
Farewell ! oh, farewell to thy time-hallow'd shore ! 
England ! dear England ! farewell evermore ! 



136 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

THE BEAUTY AND THE BEE. 

[Air: Old English.] 

I. 

Fanny array 'd in the bloom of her beauty, 

Stood at the mirror and toy'd with her hair. 
Viewing her charm s,. till she felt it a duty 

To own that like Fanny no woman was fair. 
A bee from the garden, — oh, what could mislead 
him?— 

Stray'd through the lattice new dainties to seek, 
And lighting on Fanny, too busy to heed him, 

Stung the sweet maid on her delicate cheek. 

ii. 

Smarting with pain, round the chamber she sought 
him, 

Tears in her eyes, and revenge in her heart, 
And angrily cried, when at last she had caught him, 

" Die for the deed, little wretch that thou art 1" 
Stooping to crush him, the hapless offender 

Pray'd her for mercy, — to hear and forgive : 
" Oh, spare me ! " he cried, " By those eyes in their 
" splendour ; 

" Oh, pity my fault, and allow me to live ! 

in. 

" Am I to blame that your cheeks are like roses, 
" Whose hues all the pride of the garden eclipse ? 

" Lilies are hid in your mouth when it closes, 
" And odours of Araby breathe from your lips." 



OVER THE WAY. 137 

Fanny relented : — " 'Twere cruel to hurt you, — 
" Small is the fault, pretty bee, you deplore ; 

" And e'en were it greater, forgiveness is virtue ; — 
" Go forth and be happy — I blame you no more." 



OVER THE WAY. 

I. 
When cold-hearted Poverty knocks at my door, 
And robs me of blessings I gather'd before, 
Takes a glass from my table, a coal from my fire, 
And robes my dear Nelly in meaner attire, 
I envy sometimes in the heat of the day 
My very good friend who lives over the way. 

II. 

But when I sit down at my pleasant fireside, 
And count o'er the joys I was never denied, — 
My sweet little wife, and the babes at her knee. 
My health and my conscience unsullied and free, — 
No longer I suffer my wishes to stray, 
Or envy my friend who lives over the way. 

in. 
He's wealthy but feeble, he's titled but old ; 
His son is a spendthrift, his wife is a scold ; 
Suspicious of others, ill pleased with himself, 
His only delight is to reckon his pelf. 
Were he ten times as rich, I'd refuse, by my fay ! 
To change with my friend who lives over the way. 



138 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

IV. 

Though Poverty, frowning, peeps in at my door, 
I'll neither be beaten nor vainly deplore ; 
I'll scare him away by hard work if I can, 
And look in his face with the heart of a man ; 
And, hiving at home all the joys that I may M 
Forget my poor friend who lives over the way. 



THE SEA SORROW. 
I. 

Far away, far away, on the wide rolling billow, 

I dream of the fields and the bowers, 
Of the cottage at home, of my love's lonely pillow, 

And the children that sport 'mid the flowers. 
Day and night, sad at heart, on the ocean 

I sigh for the folly that caused me to roam ; 
Or I weep bitter tears of emotion, 

To think of the beauty and blessings of home. 

it. 

Nevermore, nevermore discontented I'll wander 

In search of the treacherous gold ; 
Safe at home let me rest, all the wiser and fonder, 

To watch my heart's treasures unfold. 
All the dreams of ambition are closing, — 

No more in the rays of the morning they shine ; 
From my toil and my travel reposing, 

The calm light of duty shall gild my decline. 



139 



JONES. 
I. 
We sit round the table and pour out the wine, 
Transforming our crystals to rubies divine; 
Then drain them to Freedom, to Friendship, to 

Worth, 
And think ourselves great as the kings of the 

earth ; 
When Jones, interrupting, says, " Drinking 's a sin, 
"And headache and heartache are drawn from the 

« bin." 
Fill the goblet again, not with cheers, but with 

groans : — 
Get out of our sunshine, ridiculous Jones ! 

II. 
I read the sweet letter my love sent to me, 
Ed closing a rose from a land o'er the sea ; 
I press to my fond lips a curl of her hair, 
And own that she's loving and good as she's fair ; 
When Jones, interrupting, says, " Love 's a mistake, 
" And women but play with men's hearts till they 

" break." 
I answer, " Why not, if they're bloodless as stones 1 — 
u Get out of my sunshine, detestable Jones !" 

in. 
My heart glows with hope for the welfare of man ; 
I pray for my fellows, and help when I can ; 
I see through the distance of ages to be, 
The many, grown wiser, made happy and free ; 



140 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

When Jones, interrupting, says, " Man is a knave ; 
" And, if not a tyrant, a fool or a slave." 
I answer, " There's kind human flesh on my bones ; — 
" Get out of my sunshine, cadaverous Jones !" 



LONG-PARTED FRIENDS. 

[Air: Old English.] 

I. 

Long-parted friends, when far away, 
We thought upon you many a day ; 
And when the wine in healths was pour'd, 
We miss'd your faces at the board. 

When the laughter rung, 

And the song was sung, 
Remembrance sadden'd all the strain, 

And we check'd our mirth 

Around the hearth, 
To wish you safely home again. 

II. 

Till parting came, we never knew 

What joy we lost in losing you, 

How much you mingled with our thought, 

What charms of life your presence brought. 

But you've come at last, 

All danger past, 
And joy shall follow in your train : 

Our hearts shall glow, 

And the wine shall flow ; — 
You're welcome, welcome home again ! 



141 



BREATHE AGAIN THAT SONG OF SADNESS. 

I. 
Breathe again that song of sadness, 

Tender memories round it cling ; 
Dreams of long-departed gladness 

Rise before us as you sing. 
Joy and sorrow, disunited, 

Seem to mingle in the strain ; 
Sorrow tearful and delighted, 

Pleasure deepening into pain. 

IL 

Sing again ! In happy childhood, 

Round the village green we play ; 
Now we wander through the wild wood, 

Light of heart, and fresh as May : 
Dear companions roam beside us, 

In whose smile our faces shine ; 
Love displays the light to guide us, 

Earthly splendour, yet divine. 

Hi. 

Cease the song ! — our tears are gushing ; 

Joys so fervent could not last ; 
Floods of thought, o'er memory rushing, 

Waft our spirits to the past. 
Cease ! oh, cease ! Our hearts endeavour 

Vainly to repress the tear ; 
Voices hush'd, alas ! for ever, 

Seem to echo as we hear. 



142 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE SWALLOW AND THE ROBIN. 

[Air: The Carman's Whistle.] 



Spring-time music fills the valleys, 

Blossoms deck the apple-tree, 
Violets peep in forest alleys, 
Gentle Swallow! list to me. 
Dipping, curving, 
Floating, swerving, 
Seek my true-love through the bowers ; 
When thou'st found her, gently tell her 
Love was born 'mid summer flowers. 

II. 

Wild and bleak the north wind blusters, 

Crisp the snow lies on the lea, 
Pendent ice-drops fall in clusters; — 
Friendly Robin ! list to me. 
Doubting, flying, 
Trusting, prying, 
Near her lattice pass thine hours ; 
Tell her, at her window tapping, 

Love shall last through winter showers. 



U3 



IF HIS HEART NEVER THROBBT) WITH 
AFFECTION. 

[Air: Old English.] 
I. 

If his heart never throbb'd with affection sincere, 
If his eyes never glisten'd with sympathy's tear, 

If still unrelenting, 

To guilt, that repenting, 
Implored him, with sobs, not to strike, but to hear; 
Untarnish'd his fame and his honour may shine, 
And the praises of thousands his worth may enshrine: 

But I shall not, I may not, 

I will not, I dare not, 
Consent to receive him as lover of mine. 



II. 

But if he be modest, pure-minded, and true, 

If from faults of his own his best sympathies grew ; 

If warm in his feeling, 

To sorrow appealing, 
He pities and loves where the harsh might pursue ; 
Unknown to the world, he may wander apart, 
At the sound of his name no applauses may start ; 

But I shall not, I may not, 

I will not, I dare not, 
Refuse him my friendship, my hand, and my heart. 



144 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



MAY DEW. 



Feom peaceful slumber waking. 

With sunlight on its wings, 
To hail the May-morn breaking, 

The happy skylark sings. 
So arise, arise, unclose your eyes, 

Pair maids, the day has dawn'd for you ; 
And try the spell through mead and dell, 

That haunts the morning dew. 

II. 

Come forth, and find it gleaming, 

Like jewels on the grass, 
And bathe your eyes, bright beaming, 

And ripe lips, as you pass. 
And your eyes shall shine with light divine 

Your cheeks their youthful bloom renew ; 
And time shall spare your faces fair, 

By magic of the dew. 

in. 

But if you doubt the trial, 

And smile to hear the tale, 
I know beyond denial 

A charm that cannot fail : 
Try thought refined, the simple mind, 

Good humour bright and feeling true, 
And you need not seek for eye or cheek, 

The marie of the dew. 



145 



THE DREAMS OF YOUTH. 
I. 

Oh ! youth's fond dreams, like evening skies, 

Are tinged with colours bright, 
Their cloud-built halls and turrets rise 
In lines of lingering light. 

Airy, fairy, 
In the beam they glow, 
As if they'd last 
Through every blast 
That angry Fate may blow. 
But Time wears on with stealthy pace, 

And robes of solemn gray, 
And in the shadow of her face 
The glories fade away. 

H. 

But not in vain the splendours die, 

For worlds before unseen 
Bise on the forehead of the sky, 
Unchanging and serene. 

Gleaming, streaming, 
Through the dark they show 
Their lustrous forms 
Above the storms 
That rend our earth below. 
So pass the visions of our Youth, 

In Time's advancing shade ; 
Yet evermore the stars of Truth 
Shine brighter when they fade. 

L 



146 SONGS FOB, MUSIC. 

THE BOATMAN. 
I. 

The bridegroom smiled a happy smile, 

The bride was sweetly blushing, 
And o'er the waters tranquil breast 

A sound of bells came gushing. 
The bridesmaids laugh'd, or watch'd the light 

Upon the ripples quiver. 
But shadows dimm'd the boatman's face 

Who row'd them o'er .the river. 

ir. 

Slow fell his oars, his thoughts were sad ; 

" 'Tis eighteen years in summer 
" Since o'er the stream. I row'd the bride, 

" New-born, a fairy comer. 
" The bells rang gaily, as to-day, 

" As to the font they brought her ; 
ce And sire and mother wept for joy 

" At christ'ning of their daughter. 

in. 

" And now once more across the stream — 

" May all kind thoughts possess her ! — 
u I row the bride and bridal guests, 

" And pray that Heaven may bless her ! 
" The sun shines bright, each heart is light, 

" The laugh rings loud and merry, 
" And shouts of welcome from the shore 

" Come booming o'er the ferry. 



THE SILVER BIRCH. 147 



IV. 



" A third time she must cross the flood, 

" With Death, our lord and master : 
" May I ne'er see that mournful day ! " — 

Row, boatman, row us faster ! 
Row, boatman, row, — your oars are slow, 

Time flies and Love is pressing ; 
And you shall earn a double fee, 

Besides your lady's blessing. 



THE SILVER BIRCH. 

I. 

Alone on the slope of the mountain it grew, 
And bathed its light tresses in glittering dew ; 
The bird on its boughs linger'd loving and long, 
And the stream at its feet ever murmur'd in song ; 
It toy'd with the winds, it was happy and free ; — 
Oh ! the silvery birch was a flourishing tree. 

II. 

The lord of the mountain beheld it, and sigh'd 
That so lovely a thing in the desert should hide. 
" Come down from the wilderness, child of the 

" storm ! 
" And I'll shield from its anger thy delicate form ; 
" I've a garden of pleasure more fitted for thee, 
" And there thou shalt flourish, my beautiful tree." 
l2 



148 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 



He loosend its roots, and convey'd it away, 
To dwell in the bowers with the roses of May ; 
But it pined for the breezes that roam'd on the hill, — ■ 
For the fern of the rock, for the voice of the rill ; 
And drooping forlorn 'mid the pride of the lea, 
It died in its grandeur, the beautiful tree. 



I LAY IN SOKKOW, DEEP DISTKESSD. 
I. 

I lay in sorrow, deep distress'd : 

My grief a proud man heard ; 
His looks were cold, he gave me gold, 

But not a kindly word. 
My sorrow pass'd, — I paid him back 

The gold he gave to me ; 
Then stood erect and spoke my thanks, 

And bless' d his Charity. 

II. 

I lay in want, in grief and pain : 

A poor man pass'd my way ; 
He bound my head, he gave me bread, 

He watch'd me night and day. 
How shall I pay him back again, 

For all he did to me % 
Oh, gold is great, but greater far 

Is heavenly Sympathy ! 



149 



FIVE THOUSAND A YEAR. 



A twelvemonth ago I was plain as could be, — 
There was not a charm or a beauty in me ; 
My age was eighteen, I was merry as young, 
But wisdom or wit never haunted my tongue. 
Mine eyes had no lustre, my cheeks had no bloom, 
My steps had no grace, and my sighs no perfume : 
The reason I'll tell, — it was much to endure,- — 
All this only happen'd because I was poor. 

II. 

But now, what a change ! I am fresb as the morn, 

All beauties my face and my actions adorn ; 

Mine eyes are too bright for my wooers to bear ; 

I'm wise, I'm accomplish' d, I'm good, and I'm fair ; 

No longer neglected I sit at the ball, 

But shine forth the pride or the envy of all. 

The reason wouldst know 1 — then the truth shall be 

clear — 
My uncle has left me five thousand a year ! 



150 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE LAEK. 



Oh, Nightingale, that singest, 

Conceal'd in thickets green, 
So loud and clear, yet sad to hear, — 

What may thy music mean ? 
"It means, that love rejected 

" Is heavy grief and thrall ; 
"Yet better still, for good or ill, 

"Than not to love at all." 
Oh, Nightingale ! sweet Nightingale ! 

The soft, sad notes prolong ; 
Our hearts confess the plaintive tale, 

And answer to thy song. 

II. 

Oh, Lark, with twinkling pinions, 

And full enraptured note, 
What means the lay — Oh, minstrel, say ! 

That gushes from thy throat ] 
" It means, that love requited 

"Shall neither die nor cloy; 
" "Tis light of heaven, to mortals given ; 

" 'Tis earth's divinest joy." 
Above the clouds, oh, songster sweet 

Soar high and carol free ! 
The coldest heart that ever beat 

Will sympathize with thee. 



151 
OLD KING COAL. 

[Air : Old King Cole.] 
I. 

Old King Coal was a merry old soul : 

" I'll move the world," quoth he ; 
" My England 's high, and rich, and great, 

But greater she shall be ! " 
And he call'd for the pick, and he call'd for the 

spade, 

And he call'd for his miners bold ; 
" And it's dig," he said, " in the deep, deep earth \ 
" You'll find my treasures better worth 

" Than mines of Indian gold ! " 

II. 

Old King Coal was a merry old soul, 

Yet not content was he ; 
And he said, " I've found what I've desired > 
"Though 'tis but one of three." 
And he call'd for water, he call'd for fire, 

For smiths and workmen true : 
M Come, build me engines great and strong ; 
" We'll have," quoth he, " a change ere long ; 
" We'll try what Steam can do." 

in. 

Old King Coal was a merry old soul : 

11 'Tis fairly done," quoth he, 
When he saw the myriad wheels at work 

O'er all the land and sea. 



152 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

They spared the bones and strength of men, 

They hammer'd, wove, and spun ; 
There was nought too great, too mean, or small,— 
The giant Steam had power for all ; — 
His task was never done. 

IV. 

Old King Coal was a merry old soul : 

Quoth he, " We travel slow ; 
" I should like to roam the wide world round, 
" As fast as the wild winds blow." 
And he call'd for his skilful engineers ; 
And soon through hills and vales, 
O'er rivers wide, through tunnels vast, 
The flying trains like lightning pass'd, 
On the ribs of the mighty Rails. 



Old King Coal was a merry old soul, 

A merry old soul is he ; 
May he never fail in the land we love, 

Who has made us great and free ! 
While his miners mine, and his engines work, 

Through all our happy land, 
We shall flourish fair in the morning light, 
And our name and our fame, and our might and 

our right, 

In the front of the world shall stand ! 



mm. 

mm* 










THE LIGHT OF LOVE 



153 



THE LIGHT OF LOVE. 
[Air : Old Exglish.] 

I. 

Oh ! the light of our love, in the Dawn of our day, 
Is bright as the sunshine that smiles on our way ; 
It shows us the dew-drops like gems on the thorn, 
And calls up the sweet-ringing music of morn. 
The roses of life in its presence unfold, 
And the crests of the mountains glow purple and 

gold. 
Oh ! the sweet light of love, in our Morning of mirth, 
Is the charm and the glory, and hope of the earth. 

II. 

But the light of our love, when the Evening is near, 
Is softer and sweeter, more tender and clear ; 
The stars that were hid in the glare of the Noon, 
Look forth in their beauty, undimm'd by the moon. 
The world and its pleasures in shadow may lie, 
But pleasures less fleeting appear in the sky : 
Oh ! the sweet light of love to our Evening is given, 
To lead us from earth to the glories of Heaven ! 



154 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE GREEN LANES OF ENGLAND. 

[Air: Old English.] 
I. 

Through the green lanes of England, the long sum- 
mer day, 
We wander'd at will in our youth's merry May ; 
We gather'd the blooms o'er the hedge-rows that 

hung, 
Or mock'd the sweet song that the nightingale sung. 

In the autumn we knew 

Where the blackberries grew, 
And the shy hazel-nuts hidden deep in the shade ; 

Or with shouting and cheer, 

When the Christmas drew near, 
In search of the ripe ruddy holly we stray'd. 

ii. 

But the green lanes of England, though dear to us 

then, 
Were dearer by far when we grew to be men ; 
When the heart's first emotions were fervent and pure, 
And the world had no grief that a smile could not 
cure. 

'Twas beneath the green leaves, 
In the calm summer eves, 
That we breathed the young hopes in our bosoms that 
burn'd ; 

Or in Love's gentle eyes 
Head the tender replies 
That show'd the fond passion as fondly return'd. 



THE FLOWER AND CHAIN. 155 



III. 



Ye green lanes of England, wherever we roam, 

Ye are link'd in our hearts with the mem'ries of 

home, 
With the sports of our childhood, the love of our 

prime, 
And the pensive delights of a soberer time. 
Other lands may be fair, 
With their balm-breathing air, 
And their beauties and grandeurs that charm or 
appal ; 

But to young and to old, 
Till our hearts shall grow cold, 
Shall the green lanes of England be dearer than all. 



THE FLOWER AND CHAIN. 



The fading rose may drink the dew, 

And draw fresh life from summer skies ; 
But years nor tears can e'er renew 

The love deceived that droops and dies. 
The chain whose links dissolve and part, 

May be united as before ; 
But broken love 's defy our art, 

And, once dissever'd, meet no more. 



156 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



Though frail the rose, it fears no storm, — 

Its sweets exhale when tempests rave ; 
But falsehood blights its fairy form, 

And strews its blossoms on the grave ; 
The mystic chain, like Fate and Death, 

Can bear all grief that men have borne, 
But breaks and crumbles at a breath, 

When utter d by the lips of scorn. 



THE BEAUTIFIES. 



Tell me, ye waving Woods and throbbing Ocean, 
Ye Hills and Streams, ye Landscapes glowing fair 

Why in my heart ye wake such new emotion ? 
And ye, O Skies ! with all your worlds, declare 

What is the secret, deep, untold delight, 

Unknown before, that fills me in your sight 1 

II. 

There came an answer to my thought's appealing, 
When she I love look'd upward to my face ; 

Her eyes were fountains bright with new revealing, 
The sweet interpreters of Nature's grace ; 

And when she spoke, I press'd her lips impearl'd, 

And knew 'twas Love that beautified the world. 



157 



THE WOODLAND STBEAM. 
I. 

How oft along thy woodland way, 

Fair streamlet of the hills, 
We've listen'd to the murmuring voice 

Of all thy gushing rills ; 
And gazing on thy lucid breast, 

Beneath thy groves of pine, 
Have wish'd the current of our joys . 

Might flow as clear as thine. 

II. 

We saw the verdure on thy brink, 

The grass, the fern, the flowers, 
We heard the song of happy birds 

That sported in thy bowers ; 
And fondly hoped that round our beads 

Such calm delights might twine, 
And that the blessings of our hearts 

Might be as pure as thine. 

in. 

And when thy constant ripple show'd, 

In morn or evening bright, 
The glory of the rising sun, 

Or moon's serener light, 
We pray'd that Love on us might beam 

With radiance as divine, 
And that the lustre of our lives 

Might come from Heaven, like thine. 



158 SOXGS FOR MUSIC. 



WITCHES AND FAIKIES. 

[Air: Come, Haste to the Wedding.] 

I. 

Oh, yes ! we believe in the witches and fairies ; 

They tease us and please us wherever we stray ; 
Ellens and Claras, and Jessies and Maries, 
And scores of tormentors as wicked as they. 

Their eyes are enchanted, 

Their dimples are haunted ; 
Wherever they wander, some mischief is found; 

Tears, smiles, 

Blushes and wiles, 
And spells without number they scatter around. 

II. 

'Tis well there's a charm that can bring them to 
reason, 
And make the most dangerous safe to behold ; 
A charm independent of place or of season — 
A plain little, sweet little, circle of gold. 
Put that on the finger, 
No mischief will linger ; 
The witchcraft will fade, and the danger depart : 
Come ! try, 
Ye who deny, 
And you'll find all the fairies kind women at heart. 



159 



THE BARLEY AND THE HOP. 

[Air: The Curly-headed Ploughboy.] 

I. 

'Twas in the morning early, 

The grass was wet with dew, 
That young and lusty Barley 

Went o'er the hills to woo. 
His cheek was like the cherry, 

His beard like threaded gold ; 
His laugh was loud and merry, 

His step was brisk and bold. 
He sought his lady, smiling, 

And falling on his knee, 
Exclaim'd, "Without beguiling, 

" I've come to marry thee !" 

ii. 

Oh, modest was the maiden, 

And comely to be seen, 
Her robes of green array' d in, 

And gemm'd with diamond sheen. 
Her hair, in ringlets yellow, 

Hung clust'ring o'er her eyes ; 
Her breath was sweet and mellow, 

Like balm of summer skies. 
"Sweet maid!" quoth he, "thy beauty 

" Excels the flaunting Yine ! 
" To love thee is a duty ; 

"I die to make thee mine!" 



160 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 

All blushing to behold him, 

She strove to answer " Kay ! * 
But, softly whisp'ring, told him 

To name the happy day. 
Hop shook her golden tresses, 

The bearded Barley sprang, 
And birds in green recesses 

Their bridal chorus sang. 
Long may this couple flourish 

In every frothing can, 
Our drooping strength to nourish, 

And cheer the heart of man ! 



FALL, OH ! FALL. 

[Air: Old English.] 



Fall, oh ! fall, ye words of anger, 

Like the leaves when autumn blows, 
Like the May-blooms in the river, 

Like the moonlight on the snows ! 
Fall like seed in barren places, 

Fall like raindrops in the sea, — 
Idle words, foredoom'd to perish, 

Lost between my love and me ! 



OF OLD, A SPADE. 161 

IL 

But, ye words of lovingkindness, 

Fall like grateful summer rain, 
Like the heat on frozen waters, 

Like sweet music heard in pain ! 
Like the dew on op'ning roses, 

Like the acorn from the tree ; 
Fall, ye accents of affection, 

Fruitful to my love and me ! 



OF OLD, A SPADE. 
[Air: Old English.] 

I. 

Of old, a "spade" was call'd a "spade," 

By simples and by sages ; 
A "workman" did his honest "work," 

And " servants" earn'd their " wages." 
A " man" was title of respect, 

Whenever virtue named it ; 
There was but one of higher worth, 

And lovely " woman" claim'd it. 
But now we masquerade with words, — 

The truth a great offence is, — 
And desecrate our English tongue 

By pride and false pretences. 



162 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

II. 

We shame the language of our sires, 

We talk so mild and meekly, — 
We've "operatives" for working-men, 

Who draw their "salaries" weekly. 
Our "lady" takes the place of "wife," 

That word so true and hearty ; 
And every "man"'s a "gentleman," 

Unless we call him "party." 
The " shopman" hates the name of " shop * 

And by perversion, later, 
The man who digs a railway trench 

Is called a "navigator." 

in. 

Oh, give us back our ancient speech ! 

It had a soul of beauty ; 
And let us do our daily "work," 

And think it pleasant duty. 
Let's earn our " wages," as of old, — 

The word can never harm us ; 
Let's love our "sweethearts" and our "wives," 

And own that " women" charm us. 
So shall our actions, like our words, 

Be void of affectation ; 
And " spade" be " spade," and " man" be " man," 

Throughout the British nation. 



163 



THE MASTER-KEYS. 
I. 

How small the master-keys of thought, 

That ope the gate of parted years, 
And show the chambers richly wrought, 

Bedew'd with bygone tears ! 
A rose-leaf folded in the page 

Awakes emotion strong ; 
And floods no pity can assuage 

Come bursting at a song. 

II. 

A strangers look, a transient word, 

A touch, an odour, or a sigh, 
A little whisper, scarcely heard, 

The lifting of an eye, 
May all be keys to open wide 

The twilight halls of Time, 
And show the cells where Passion died, 

Or Folly grew to Crime. 

in. 

Oh, turn them not ! Be hush'd the strain ! 

We may not gaze on Sorrow's heart ; 
Be hid, ye flowers, that breathe of pain ! 

Ye memories, depart I 
The moonbeam lights the storied glass, 

But darkness hovers round ; 
Beware, intruder, how you pass ! — 

You tread on holy ground. 
m 2 



1G4 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

THE NAMES ON THE BEECH-TREE. 

I. 

Where are they gone, — the beautiful, 

The young, the fond, the free, 
Who carved their names upon thy bark, 

Thou lordly beech en tree 1 
Alas, the change ! thy leaves grow green, 

Thine arms are strong and bold ; 
But hopes are dead, and joys are fled, 

And burning love is cold. 

ii. 

'Tis sad to think, O beechen tree, 

All beauteous as thou art, 
That thy broad stem and spreading boughs 

Outlive the human heart. 
From year to year thy leaves unfold, 

And woo the birds to sing ; 
While Hope and Passion droop and die, 

And feel no second spring. 

in. 

Yet ah ! not so : the youthful loves 

Whose fond memorials twine 
Around thy girth, thou ancient tree, 

Have higher life than thine. 
Though dead to earth, as bygone leaves 

By winds of Autumn driven, 
A hope divine inspires our souls ; 

They bloom again in Heaven. 



165 



HAL AND HIS FRIENDS. 

[Air: Old English.] 
I. 

Hal had a plot of garden-ground ; 

And when his work was done, 
He loved to sit beneath the trees, 

And watch the setting sun. 
And thither came the friends he loved, — 

'Twas Tom, and Dick, and Ben ; 
Quoth Hal, " We've oft been happy here,— 

" And so we shall again ! 

II. 

" No store have we of worldly wealth, 

"But we are sages all ; 
u And if our fortunes are not great, 

" Our wishes are but small. 
" When we began to earn our bread, 

" Our years were four and ten, 
" And since that day we've paid our way,- 

" And so we shall again ! 

in. 
" We never hide the truth we feel, 

" To flatter rich or poor ; 
" And stoutly bear, as men should do, 

" The griefs we cannot cure. 
u And if like others we have err'd, 

" Or stumbled now and then, 
u We've always held our heads erect, — 

" And so we shall again ! 



166 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

IV. 

"With cheerful hearts we've plodded on, 

" Through many a stormy day ; 
" Enjoy'd the light, and loved the right, 

" And pluck'd the flowers of May. 
" We've done our best, and hoped the rest, 

" Though poor yet honest men ; 
" And always found our pathway clear, — 

"And so we shall a^ain!" 



OF LOWLY BIRTH, BUT REGAL BEAUTY. 

I. 
Of lowly birth, but regal beauty, 

To charm, to dazzle, and surprise ; 
Men gave her homage as a duty, 

And bards drew rapture from her eyes. 
Of spirit bold, of bearing proud, 
She shone above the common crowd, 

A dream of light and glory. 

II. 

"Farewell!" exclaim'd a sailor, kneeling: 
" Thy smile shall light me o'er the sea ; 

" Remembrance of thy tears, appealing, 
" Shall be my guide to victory. 

" Two passions only fill my heart, 

" And ever shall, till life depart, — 
"Thy love, and England's glory!" 






WINE AND GLOKY. 1G7 



III. 

"Farewell!" she said; "the tear-drops starting, 
u Betray my love, and not my fears ; 

" For through the clouds that dim our parting, 
" I see the light of coming years. 

" My soul rejoices in thy fame ; 

" And when I think upon thy name, 
" I dream of England's glory ! " 

IV. 

He sought the strife where duty bore him : 
He fought and died, but conquering fell. 

His country's tears dropp'd gushing o'er him, 
And nations peal'd his funeral knell. 

But she, alas ! of soul so high, 

Was left in poverty to die, 

Though dear to England's glory ! 



WINE AND GLORY. 
I. 

A fly on the brink of a tankard was sipping 

The rich mantling wave of the ripe Rhenish wine ; 
" Oh, what are you doing ? you rush to your ruin ! 

" Be wise, foolish fly, and to reason incline ! " 
Thus argued another, careering in gladness 

Around the bright flame of a taper afar. 
f All drinking 's a folly, and brings melancholy ; 

" Take warning, and shun it, lost fly that you are ! 



168 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

II. 

" Behold Low a passion more noble should move you ; 

" 'Tis Glory alone has a charm in my eyes ; 
" Whatever betide me, its radiance shall guide me ! 

" Good bye, silly toper, and learn to be wise." 
Thus saying, he sported his wings for a minute, 

Then flew to the light that so tempted his gaze ; 
But burning his pinions in Glory's dominions, 

He fell in the candle, and died in the blaze. 

in. 

" Alas !" said the fly that was perch'd on the tankard, 

" Can aught for the want of self-knowledge atone *? 
" We rail against others, see faults in our brothers, 

" And blame every folly and vice but our own." 
But whether this fly was converted from toping, 

Or led a new life, is not easy to say ; 
But if flies are like drinkers 'mong two-legged 
thinkers, 

'Tis likely he sips the red wine to this day ! 



OH, LEAVE HER TO HER GRIEF. 
I. 

Oh, leave her to her grief, 

Nor urge her to forget ; 
All art is vain to soothe her pain : 

She mourns her loved one yet. 



THE FLOWER OF DECEMBER. 169 

II. 

The storm will run its course, 
And not till clouds have burst, 

Shall light appear, serene and clear, 
And glorious as at first. 

in. 

Oh, leave her till she weep ! 

And when the tear-drops flow, 
Let Pity's word, soft stealing, heard, 

Be music to her woe. 

IV. 

And water' d by those tears, 

A little flower shall bloom ; 
A blossom fair, for Love to wear — 

A hope beyond the tomb. 



THE FLOWER OF DECEMBER. 
I. 

I've loved thee well, I've loved thee long, 

And, gazing on thy beauty, 
I ask my heart what secret charm 

Makes love such joyous duty ? 
My heart replies : — The soul of truth, 

The hope in sadness spoken, 
The smiles of light in darkest days, 

The constancy unbroken. 



170 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



The kindly word that falls to-day, 

May bear its fruit to-morrow ; 
The false are often kind in joy, 

The true alone in sorrow. 
And though we bless the flower of June, 

And all its charms remember, 
We've double blessings for the rose 

That blossoms in December. 



THE LINNET MUST SING, THOUGH THE FALCON 
MAY HEAR. 



The linnet must sing, though the falcon may hear ; 
The leaf must unfold, though it die with the year ; 
And the glow-worm must shine, though the light 

which it shows 
But guide the attack of its wandering foes ; 
At the call of the tempest the billows must foam, 
Though the ship may be wreck' d that is journeying 

home ; 
And the young heart must love, though experience 

declare 
That love is a folly, and passion a snare. 



BE WISE, O VAGRANT FANCY. 171 

II. 

In vain, all in vain, are the lessons of old, — 

The world must roll on as it ever has roll'd. 

If the birds would not sing, lest the fowler might spy, 

The music of earth would be mute in the sky \ 

If the storms would not blow, lest the oak might be 

riven, 
Not a flower could expand to the breezes of heaven ; 
And if hearts would not love, lest a grief might ensue, 
Oh, the world were no home for the young and the 

true ! 



BE WISE, VAGRANT FANCY. 
I. 

Be wise, vagrant Fancy, nor paint the world so 
fair, 

Nor build such cloudy temples and castles in the air ; 

Believe, or thou wilt rue it, that friendship can be- 
tray, 

And love forget to-morrow the truth it vows to-day. 

ii. 

It is not hope, but folly, to robe the earth in light, 
And in the blaze of morning to disbelieve in night ; 
Thy glowing dreams mislead thee, thy careless eyes 

grow blind, 
They only see the rainbow, but not the cloud behind. 



172 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

III. 

And yet, O vagrant Fancy, 'tis better as thou art ; 
To disbelieve in goodness destroys both head and 

heart. 
We'll keep our loves and friendships, nor deem they 

can betray, 
Nor heed that thorns may pierce us when flowers are 

on the way. 



FAIR AND TRUE. 

I. 
Ripe as peaches, fresh as morning, 

Minnie's cheeks with crimson glow ; 
On her lips the clustering kisses 

Woo the wind to taste and go. 
When she breathes, the jealous roses 

Long to share a fragrance new. 
Lurking smiles and artless meanings 

Slumber in her eyes of blue. 

II. 

But though beautiful is Minnie, 

She has charms all charms above ; 
Bright good-humour never failing, 

Goodness, gentleness, and love. 
Ye who doubt the worth of woman, 

Look on Minnie and be wise ; 
Virtue beams in every feature, 

Truth 's the sunlight of her eyes. 



173 

WHEN I RECALL WHAT LOVE HAS DONE. 
I. 

When I recall what Love has done, 
Since first the world was fashion'd ; 

What grief and care, and deep despair, 
Pursue the heart impassion'd ; 

What countless agonv and wrong 
Its daily course have haunted ; — 
" Love ! " I cry, " I pass you by. — 

" My soul is disenchanted ! 

ii. 

" For you the wise belie their name, 

" The true forget their duty ; 
" And men have given their hopes of heav'n 

" To win the smile of beauty. 
" Such hearts and realms you've overthrown, 

" And wrought such wars and treason, 
" My mind, O Love, you shall not move, 

" While I preserve my reason." 

in. 

But when I look on Ellen's face, 

With arch endearment gleaming, 
And from her eyes see Love's replies 

In every glance come streaming, — 
Not Antony, who lost a world, 

Nor Paris, son of Priam ; 
Nor any fool who died for love, 

Was such a fool as I am ! 



174 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE WINTRY WINDS. 

[Air: The Vicar of Bray.] 
I. 

The wintry winds rush howling past, 

And whistle through the moorland ; 
The tall oaks answer to the storm, 

Like billows on the foreland ; 
The windows shake, the chimney groans, 

So draw your chairs together ; 
Pile up the coal, and fill the bowl, 

And we'll defy the weather. 
There's storm without, but love within, 

And friendship's pure embraces : 
We'll make amends for winter cold, 

By sunshine of our faces. 

ii. 

Pile up the fire ! we'll dance and sing ; 

But yet amid our gladness, 
We'll not forget the fate of those 

Who pine in want and sadness : 
The shivering wanderers in the streets 

Who tramp the homeless city, 
And sailors shipwreck'd far at sea, 

With none to aid or pity. 
May Heaven protect them, one and all ! 

And sweeten our embraces, 
Both by the rain-drops of our hearts, 

And sunshine of our faces ! 






175 



WHEN SOXG, TO CHEER THE HEART OF MAX. 

I. 

When Song, to cheer the heart of man. 
Her artless wood-notes first began, 
Her voice was pure, her fancy young, 
And ever what she meant she sung. 
With harmless mirth or feeling deep, 
She made the nations smile or weep. 
She loved the right, she scorn'd the wrong : 
Oh ! mighty was the voice of Song ! 

ii. 

But wandering in a later day, 
Where cities lured her from her way, 
She learn'd a note was not her own, 
And lost her purity of tone : 
With Fancy, not with Truth, she dwelt, 
And spoke the thought she had not felt ; 
And quitting Nature's guiding hand, 
Became a trifler in the land. 

in. 

Men wonder' d why their hearts no more 
Obey'd her impulse as before, 
Till, by their cold indifference warn'd, 
She sought the Truth that she had scorn'd. 
And now again her tones we hear, 
Majestic, earnest, and sincere ; 
And nations, as of old, rejoice, 
And throb responsive to her voice. 



176 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



I'M BUT LITTLE NOBODY. 



When the wild wind flies 

O'er the midnight skies, 
And from crag to crag the frantic thunders ride ; 

When the lightning stroke 

Has destroy'd the oak, 
Safely down below, the little violets hide. 

In the strife appalling, 

When the proud are falling, 
Little men can rest, or watch unheeded by. 

Blow, ye storms of Fate, 

On the rich and great, 
I'm but Little Nobody — Nobody am I ! 

II. 

Pebbles on the shore 

Dread no billow's roar ; 
But the mighty ships, deep-laden in the hold, 

With a thousand men, 

Steering home again, 
Founder oftentimes with all their men and gold. 

Feathers fall but slowly ; 

And the poor and lowly 
Fall, and are unhurt, while greatness falls to die. 

Kings may wake to weep, 

While their ploughmen sleep. 
Who would be a Somebody 1 Nobody am I ! 



177 



THE RIVER OF TIME. 

[Air: Tarry awhile with Me.] 

I. 

A youth full of hope, and a man in his prime, 

Sat down by the shore of the river of Time : 

The youth, with a sigh, cast a flower on its breast, 

And watch'd the sweet blossom float down to the West, 

Then roam'd by the river, impatient of rest. 

" And haste," he cried, " thou tardy stream, 

u And bring the promised joy ; 
" I'm weary waiting on the brink ; — 
" Oh, who would be a boy ! 

II. 

" I long to behold the delights of the world, 
" The swift-sailing ships, with their banners unfuiTd ; 
" To join the glad songs of the hopeful and free, 
" As onward in triumph they sweep to the sea. 
" Flow swiftly, O river, and waft them to me." 
And still he cried, " tardy stream ! 

" Be fleet as thou art clear ; 
" I 'm weary, weary gath'ring flowers, — 
" I may not linger here." 

in. 

But the man, with a smile, turn'd his gaze to the sky, 
And then to the river, slow murmuring by ; 
The odour of lilies around him was shed, 
The birds sang their songs 'mid the boughs overhead : 
And though he was happy, he sigh'd, as he said, — 

N 



178 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

" Oh, tarry awhile, thou rapid stream ; 

" Why hasten to the sea 1 
" Thy waves are fair, thy banks are green ; 

" Oh, tarry awhile with me ! " 



THE MOTHER'S LAMENT. 
[Air: On the Cold, Cold Ground.] 

I. 

How mournful is my fate ! 
I've lost my hope, my love, my joy ; 

My heart is desolate, 

And beats but to deplore. 

Thy father went before, 
And left but thee to bless me, boy ! 

Thy face was bright as day, 

Thy voice like music's sound : 
The voice is hush'd, the light is quench'd 

In the cold, cold ground. 

II. 

But yet thou sleepest well. 
Ifc was a glorious field, my son, 

On which thy father fell ! 

Ah ! double grief is mine ; 

Alike his fate and thine ! 
'Twas hard such love to yield, my son : 

'Twas hard to lose you both, 

E'en though your country found ; 
But flowers are springing from your graves, 

In the cold, cold ground. 



THE SUMMER BOWER. 179 

III. 

The cheerful leaves unfold, 
As they were looks of thine, my boy, 

To bid me be consoled, 

And learn to hope and pray : 

They seem to smile, and say, 
" The grave is powerless to destroy." 

The sunshine gilds my face ; 

Love, like the flowers around, 
Points smiling up to Heaven, my boy, 

From the cold, cold ground. 



THE SUMMER BOWER. 
I. 

Love once built a summer bower, 

Fill'd with golden treasure : 
" Here," he said, " come shine or shower, 

" I will pass my leisure. 
" Care and grief, with brow severe, 
"Never more shall enter here, 
"And no winter in my year 

" Shall disturb my pleasure." 

IL 

But, alas ! as Time flew by, 

Love, by sameness haunted, 
Pined for want of sympathy, 

Sigh'd for something wanted. 

n2 



180 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Pleasure's debt was hard to pay, 
Constant light obscured his way, 
Weary grew the summer day 
In that bower enchanted. 

in. 

"Wasting thus in lonely pride, 
Lo ! a stranger sought him ; 

Walking sadly by his side, 

To the world she brought him. 

To the world of grief and care. 

To the healthy open air, 

And to pathways bleak and bare, 
Where this truth she taught him : 

IV. 

" Sorrow is my name," she said ; 

" Thou my strength must borrow : 
"Tears to-day like rain-drops shed 

"Feed the flowers to-morrow." 
Since that time, the world can prove 
In a magic round they move ; 
Sorrow purifying Love, 

Love consoling Sorrow. 



181 



LOVERS' QUARRELS. 

[Air: Come, Sweet Lass.] 

I. 

Let's be wise, 

And cease repining : 

Love is shining 
From our eyes, 
And taunts no more arise 

After the rain 

The sunshine smiles again ; 
And birds make music rare 
When storms have clear d the air. 

II. 

Love, like flowers, 

Blooms all the sweeter 

And completer 
After showers, 
That fill with balm the bowers. 

When the wind blows, 

The bright flame brighter glows ; 
And kisses after strife, 
Make Love the joy of Life. 



182 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

THE EOLIAN HAKP. 

[Air : Farewell to Manchester.] 
I. 

Through the summer night 

Comes a melancholy sprite, 

Fitful as a light 

On the billowy seas ; — 

At my window lone 

It awakes a mournful tone, 
Rising, falling, failing in sweet melodies. 

Tell me, why dost borrow 

Such a voice of sorrow, 
Spirit at my casement, moaning 'mid the trees 1 

II. 

Wherefore seek to know ? 

Forests sigh when wild winds blow, 

And the torrent's flow 

Dies in plaintive song ; 

Nature's voice appears 

As if, touch'd by human tears, 
'Twere a dirge of pity for our human wrong ; 

Ocean moans for ever ; 

Sadly falls the river ; 
And all the vagrant storms the notes of grief prolong. 

in. 
Breathe, O summer air ; 
Music never spoke despair ; 
And thy sighs declare 

Comfort 'mid our pain. 



NOTICE TO QUIT. 183 

Joy abides in grief; 

Hidden in the flower and leaf 
Are the autumn treasures — fruit and golden grain. 

Sigh, O wind of summer, 

Sweet uncertain comer, — 
Sympathy for sorrow hallows all the strain. 



NOTICE TO QUIT. 



Love plagued me so much when he dwelt in my 

heart, 
That I gave the tormenter a hint to depart ; 
But he would not obey me. " Oh, why should I go ? 
You must," he exclaim'd, " have a tenant, you know ; 
And should I forsake you, Ambition, perchance, 
Might be the next comer to lead you a dance. 
He'd vex you, perplex you, and lure you astray ; 
So you'd better be wise, and allow me to stay." 

ii. 

" I care not for Fame or Ambition," I cried ; 
" I ask but for quiet, and nothing beside." 
" All folly ! " said Love ; "and if Glory should fail, 
Some passion less noble your heart would assail. 
You must have a tenant to keep the house tight, 
And if Fame will not suit you, why Avarice might." 
" Enough ! " I replied ; " let us argue no more." 
And he 's tenant again, firmer fix'd than before. 



184 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



MY GAKDEN GATE. 

X. 

Stand back, bewildering Politics ! — 

I've placed my fences round ; 
Pass on, with all your party tricks, 

ISTor tread my holy ground ! 
Stand back — I'm weary of your talk, 

Your squabbles, and your hate : 
You cannot enter in this walk ; — 

I've closed my garden gate. 

ii. 

Stand back, ye thoughts of trade and pelf I- 

I have a refuge here ; 
I wish to commune with myself — 

My mind is out of gear. 
These bowers are sacred to the page 

Of philosophic lore ; 
Within these bounds no envies rage — 

I've shut my garden door. 

in. 

Stand back, Frivolity and Show ! — 

It is a day of spring ; 
I want to see my roses blow, 

And hear the blackbird sing. 
I wish to prune my apple-trees, 

And nail my peaches straight : 
Keep to the causeway, if you please — 

I've shut my garden gate. 



MY GARDEN GATE. 185 



IV. 



I have no room for such as you, — 

My house is somewhat small : 
Let Love come here, and Friendship true ;- 

I'll give them welcome all ; 
They will not scorn my household stuff, 

Or criticise my store. 
Pass on — the world is wide enough — 

I've shut my garden door. 

V. 

Stand back, ye pomps ! and let me wear 

The liberty I feel ! 
I have a coat at elbows bare — 

I love its dishabille. 
Within these precincts let me rove 

With Nature, free from state ; 
There is no tinsel in the grove — 

I've shut my garden gate. 

VI. 

What boots continual glare and strife ? — 

I cannot always climb ; 
I would not struggle all my life — 

I need a breathing time. 
Pass on ! — I've sanctified these grounds 

To Friendship, Love, and Lore : 
Ye cannot come within the bounds — 

I've shut the garden door. 



186 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



WILD FLOWEKS. 



Fair flow'rets of the field 
That gem the modest grass, 

And peep in woodland bowers,- 
Fair buds, that ever yield 
A pleasure as we pass, 

And smile like happy hours, — 
Sweet memories ye recall 
Of past delights we knew, 
Ere toil and grief begun : 
Joy haunts you, one and all, 
Ye nurslings of the dew, 
And darlings of the sun ! 

II. 

Rose-lipp'd, the daisies tell 
Of infantine delight, 

"When we were pure as they ; 
Shy violets in the dell 
Restore the visions bright 
Of youth's unfolding May ; 
And sweet, with sweeter name, 
The blue " forget-me-not " 
Recalls the joy supreme, 
When life was loving flame, 
And hope was passion-lraught, 
And sorrow but a dream. 



THE SOBER WINE. 187 



III. 



Fair blossoms, ever bloom ! 
Heaven has its stars above, 
To light its awful face ; 
Earth has your sweet perfume, 
Your smiles as kind as love, 
Your never-failing grace. 
Oh ! blessings great, though small, 
That stir each feeling true, 
We love you every one : 
Joy dwells amid you all, 
Ye nurslings of the dew, 
And darlings of the sun ! 



THE SOBER WINE. 

[Air : Wine ! wine ! Women and Wine !] 



Some drink the wine for sake of wine, 
Some for folly, some for care ; 

Some with borrow' d light to shine, 
Some to save them from despair. 

'Tis not for these we fill the glass, 

And bid the joyous bumpers pass ; — 
Wine ! wine ! the sober wine ! 

Is only bright to thee and me, 

For the sake of company. 



188 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

II. 

Oh ! life indeed were dark and cold, 
Could men not meet in festive bands, 

And while the healths with cheers were told, 
Join cups and voices, hearts and hands. 

If in the joy-inspiring night, 

They could not pour, with faces bright, 
Wine ! wine ! the sober wine ! 

In honour of the brave and free, 

In a goodly company. 

in. 

As symbol be the vintage pourd 

Of feelings warm, and honest worth ; 

And while the wine-cup cheers the board, 
"We'll mingle wisdom with our mirth, 

And prize the gift, as sent to bless, 

And only hurtful in excess : — 
Wine ! wine ! the sober wine ! 

Our friend, not tyrant, let it be, 

Only good in company. 



MY GOOD EIGHT HAND. 

I. 

I fell into grief, and began to complain ; 
I look'd for a friend, but I sought him in vain : 
Companions were shy, and acquaintance were cold, 
They gave me good counsel, but dreaded their gold. 



PROCRASTINATIONS. 189 

I Let them go," I exclaini'd, " I've a friend at my 

side, 
" To lift me, and aid me, whatever betide. 
u To trust to the world is to build on the sand : — 
I I'll trust but in Heaven and my good Eight Hand." 

ii. 

My courage reviv'd, in my fortune's despite, 
And my hand was as strong as my spirit was light ; 
It raised me from sorrow, it saved me from pain ; 
It fed me, and clad me, again and again. 
The friends who had left me came back every one, 
And darkest advisers look'd bright as the sun : 
I need them no more, as they ail understand, — 
I thank thee, I trust thee, my good Eight Hand ! 



PROCRASTINATIONS. 

[Music by Sir H. R. Bishop.] 

I. 

If Fortune with a smiling face 

Strew roses on our way, 
When shall we stoop to pick them up? — 

To-day, ?ny love, to-day. 
But should she frown with face of care, 

And talk of coming sorrow, 
When shall we grieve, if grieve we must ?- 

To-morrow, love, to-morrow. 



190 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 



II. 



If those who've wrong' d us own their faults, 

And kindly pity pray, 
When shall we listen and forgive 1— 

To-day, my love, to-day. 
But if stern Justice urge rebuke, 

And warmth from Memory borrow 
When shall we chide, if chide we dare 1— 

To-morrow, love, to-morrow, 

ill. 

If those to whom we owe a debt 

Are harm'd unless we pay, 
When shall we struggle to be just ? — 

To-day, my love, to-day. 
But if our debtor fail our hope, 

And plead his ruin thorough, 
When shall we weigh his breach of faith 1 — 

To-morrow, love, to-morrow. 



IV. 

If Love, estranged, should once again 

His genial smile display, 
When shall we kiss the proffer'd lips 1 — 

To-day, my love, to-day. 
But if he would indulge regret, 

Or dwell with bygone sorrow, 
When shall we weep, if weep we must ? — 

To-morrow, love, to-morrow. 



THE EXILE OF CLOUDLAND. 191 

V. 

For virtuous acts and harmless joys 

The minutes will not stay : 
We've always time to welcome them 

To-day, ray love, to-day. 
But care, resentment, angry words, 

And unavailing sorrow, 
Come far too soon, if they appear 

To-morrow, love, to-morrow. 



THE EXILE OF CLOUDLAND. 



When I was a dweller in Cloudland, 
I dwelt in a rich and a proud land ; 

I was lord of the clime, 

I was king of the time ; 

And the sun and the shower, 

The leaf and the flower, 
All came to my bidding in Cloudland. 

II. 

I was monarch supreme in my Cloudland, 
I was master of fate in that proud land ; 
I would not endure 
That a grief without cure, 
A love that could end, 
Or a false-hearted friend, 
Should dwell for an instant in Cloudland. 



192 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 



My Cloudland, my beautiful Cloudland, 
I made thee a great and a proud land ! 

With skies ever bright, 

And with hearts ever light ; — 

Neither sorrow nor sin 

Found a harbour within, 
And Love was the law of my Cloudland. 

IV. 

But, alas for myself and my proud land ! 
There came [Revolution in Cloudland ; 

My people, untrue, 

Broke my sceptre in two, 

And, false to their vow, 

Took the crown from my brow, 
And banish'd me far from my Cloudland. 

v. 

My Cloudland, my beautiful Cloudland ! 
How happy was I in that proud land ; 

All the wisdom I've won 

Since my realm was undone, 

Is but poor to repay 

What I lost in the day 
When I turn'd my last looks upon Cloudland. 

VI. 

Oh, ye thoughts and ye feelings of Cloudland ! 
Ye died when I quitted that proud land ! 



GIVE US HEART. 193 

I wander discrown'd, 
On a bare chilly ground, — 
An exile forlorn, 
Weary, weary and worn, 
Never more to revisit my Cloudland ! 



GIVE US HEART. 

I. 

Have heart, if you'd please us ! the man that's sincere 
Has titles of honour, and ranks as a peer. 
'Tis heart that persuades in the eloquent eyes, 
'Tis heart that gives strength to the words of the 

wise : 
To work with good heart is a triumph begun, 
And heart in our pleasures sheds light like the sun ; 
And greater than fate — to enjoy or endure — 
Is the heart that is kind, unaffected, and pure. 

II. 

Have heart on the tongue, — show a heart in your 

hand ! — 
The heart speaks a language that all understand ; 
'Tis friendship, 'tis love, 'tis the fire of the brave ; 
It glows in the freeman, it fades in the slave : 
So noble is heart, that however forlorn, 
We'd rather by half have your hate than your scorn. 
So fill up your glasses, and find, if you can, 
A sweet heart in woman, a true heart in man. 

o 



194 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



UNDEE THE HOLLY BOUGH. 
[Music by C. W. Glover.] 

I. 

Ye who have scorn'd each other, 
Or injured friend or brother, 

In this fast-fading year ; 
Ye who, by word or deed, 
Have made a kind heart bleed, 

Come gather here. 
Let sinn'd against and sinning 
Forget their strife's beginning, 

And join in friendship now ; 
Be links no longer broken ; 
Be sweet forgiveness spoken 

Under the Holly Bough. 

H. 

Ye who have loved each other, 
Sister and friend and brother, 

In this fast-fading year ; 
Mother and sire and child, 
Young man and maiden mild, 

Come gather here ; 
And let your hearts grow fonder, 
As Memory shall ponder 

Each past unbroken vow ; 
Old loves and younger wooing 
Are sweet in the renewing, 



Under the Holly Bough. 



THE MAN WHO WILL NOT MERRY BE. 105 
III. 

Ye who have nourish' d sadness, 
Estranged from hope and gladness, 

In this fast-fading year ; 
Ye with o'erburden'd mind, 
Made aliens from your kind, 

Come gather here. 
Let not the useless sorrow 
Pursue you night and morrow : 

If e'er you hoped, hope now ; 
Take heart, — uncloud your faces, 
And join in our embraces 

Under the Holly Bough. 



THE MAN WHO WILL NOT MEREY BE. 
[Air : Old English.] 

I. 

The man who will not merry be 

When the wine-cups foam and flow, 
And he drinks with a goodly company 

Whose eyes with pleasure glow, 
Deserves to weep in a dungeon deep, 

And to eat dry bread in pain ; 
Fill high the glass, the toast shall pass — 

May he ne'er have the chance again ! 
Bad boy ! 

May he ne'er have the chance again ! 
o2 



196 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

II. 

The man who will not happy be 

When he sits at Beauty's side, 
And might press the lips, so pure and free, 

Of his wife or destined bride, 
Deserves to groan through his age alone, 

And to seek a friend in vain ; 
Fill high the glass, the toast shall pass — 

May he ne'er have the chance again ! 
Bad boy ! 

May he ne'er have the chance again ! 

in. 

The man who will not thankful be 

For his liberty and right, 
For his strong good health and labour's fee, 

And quiet sleep at night, 
Deserves to know how the beggars go, 

And to starve in cold and rain ; 
Fill high the glass, the toast shall pass — 

May he ne'er have the chance again ! 
Bad boy ! 

May he ne'er have the chance again ! 



c-^&^&efrzQ^-* 



197 



THE CHIMES. 



I. 



Ring on, ring on, ye mournful chimes ! 
We 're sad at heart to-day, 
And dream of joys that Fate may not restore— 
Of love and hope in bygone times, 
Too quickly fled away : 
Ring mournfully, ye chimes, evermore. 

il 

Ring on ! yet why so sad, ye bells 1 
O'er woods and waters borne, 
Your tones but mock the fancies in the mind ;- 
With saddest thought a pleasure dwells ; 
Our hearts are less forlorn : 
Ring sweetly, O ye bells, on the wind ! 

in. 

Ring on, ring on ! let joy go round, — 
The shade of grief has pass'd, 
The sky is bright, the world has bliss in store : 
Ring on, ring on ! for pleasure found, 
And hope, that long shall last : 
Ring merrily, ye chimes, evermore ! 



198 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



FAKEWELL TO THE WOODLANDS. 
[Air: Since Hodge proves Ungrateful,] 

I. 

Farewell to the woodlands, farewell to the bowers, 
Farewell to the home of our happiest hours, 
To pleasant companions, to mirth and to song, 
And the kind-hearted friends we have cherish'd so 

long: 
Our cares and our duties forbid us to stay, 
But our thoughts shall be with you wherever we 

stray ; 
And we'll long for the summer to smile on the plain, 
To bid us return to the woodlands again. 

II. 

And joyous to us shall the memories be 

That cling to the scenes where our hearts were so 

free : 
If care should perplex us, if sorrow should frown, 
Or weariness follow the moil of the town, 
We'll think of the days when our faces were bright, 
"With the rambles of morn and the songs of the night; 
And cherish the hope, amid winter and rain, 
That we'll come back with summer to see you again. 



199 



THE MAYING: 

AN INVITATION. 



I. 

Fair May unveils her ruddy cheek, 

And decks her brow with daisies, 
And scatters blossoms as she goes 

Through fields and forest mazes. 
The fragrant hawthorn, white with bloom, 

Fills all the uplands airy ; 
The grass is dry, the sky is clear — 

Let's go a-Maying, Mary ! 

II. 
I dearly love, in days like this, 

"When birds make music o'er us, 
To roam with thee through wildwood paths, 

And listen to their chorus : 
To help thee over crags and stiles, 

And take thy hand in leaping, 
And, out and in, to see thy face 

Through leaves and branches peeping. 

ill. 
Ten years have pass'd since first I saw 

Thy fresh and budding beauty ; 
And love has ripen'd with the years, 

And link'd itself with duty. 
In life's young Spring I swore to thee 

A truth that should not vary; 
And now, in Summer of my days, 
love thee better, Mary ! 



200 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



IV. 

Time lays his finger light on thee, — 

Thy cheeks are red as peaches ; 
Thine eyes are bright as first they glow'd 

To hear my youthful speeches. 
Thine eldest boy is nine years old. 

Thy youngest babe two summers ; 
And thou art blooming like a girl 

'Mid all the little comers. 



v. 

Bring all the four into the woods, — 

We'll set them gathering posies 
Of harebells blue and pimpernels, 

Instead of garden roses. 
Beneath the trees we'll have one day 

Of frolicsome employment ; 
And birds shall sing and winds shall blow, 

To help us to enjoyment. 

VL 

Leave house affairs to shift awhile — 

Leave work, and care, and sorrow ; 
We'll be the merrier to-day, 

And happier to-morrow. 
I would not greatly care for life, 

If fate and toil contrary 
Could not afford me, now and then, 

A holiday for Mary. 



love's questions and replies. 201 

VII. 

And Fate is kind to those who strive 

To make existence pleasant, 
With harmless joys and simple tastes, 

And kindness ever present. 
We'll not complain ; so come away, 

And when we want a treasure, 
We'll use these May-day memories 

To buy forgotten pleasure. 



LOVE'S QUESTIONS AND BEPLIES. 



I send a question to my dear 

Each morning by the lark, 
And every night the nightingale 

Brings answer ere the dark. 
The question needs no other words, 

And this is the reply — 
" I'll love thee, dearest, while I live, 

u And bless thee if I die." 

ii. 

I send a message by the rose ; 

It says, " Thou breathing grace, 
" Thy modest virtue, like this flower, 

"Spreads fragrance round thy place." 



202 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

The lily brings the answer meet : 

" O thou whom I adore, 
" My heart is spotless as these leaves, 
"And loves thee evermore." 



YOUTH'S WAENING. 
I. 

Beware, exulting youth, beware, 

When life's young pleasures woo, 
That ere you yield you shrive your heart, 

And keep your conscience true ! 
For sake of silver spent to-day, 

Why pledge to-morrow's gold ? 
Or in hot blood implant Remorse, 

To grow when blood is cold ? 
If wrong you do, if false you play, 

In summer among the flowers, 
You must atone, you shall repay, 

In winter among the showers. 

ii. 

To turn the balances of Heaven 

Surpasses mortal power ; 
For every white there is a black, 

For every sweet a sour. 
For every up there is a down, 

For every folly, shame ; 
And retribution follows guilt, 

As burning follows name. 



THE CUCKOO. 203 

If wrong you do, if false you play, 

In summer among the flowers, 
You must atone, you shall repay, 

In winter among the showers. 



THE CUCKOO. 

[Air: Old English, by Dr. Arne.] 
I. 

When daisies pied, and snowdrops pale, 
And young May-blossoms, gleaming bright, 

And slender lilies of the vale 

Have fringed the robes of Spring with white, 

The Cuckoo on the hawthorn-tree 

Sings all the morning merrily : 

Cuckoo ! Cuckoo ! come forth to play, 

The Spring is Nature's holiday. 

II. 

When children gather wreaths of flowers, 

Or plait green rushes into crowns, 
And lovers meet at twilight hours, 

In woodland corners far from towns, 
The soft sweet voice re-echoes still, 
Through grove and mead, o'er vale and hill, 
Cuckoo ! Cuckoo ! and seems to say, 
O Life, be Love ! O Love, be May I 



204 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

THE OWL. 

[Air: Old English, by Dr. Arne.] 
L 

When crisp, cold Winter binds the ground, 
And night's dark shades are gathering round, 
When weary men sit close and warm, 
And children by the ingle swarm, 
And swiftly sails the icy moon, 
The horned Owl begins his tune — 
Tu whit ! tu whoo ! the merry lay 
Fills all night long his turret gray 

II. 

The horned Owl sits snugly too, 
When frost makes diamonds of the dew, 
And through the branches bare and hard, 
Like Love behind a window barr'd, 
The moon looks forth with rueful mien ; 
He sings his song 'mid ivies green — 
Tu whit ! tu whoo ! — a hermit old, 
Whose cheerful voice defies the cold. 

in. 

A sage and solemn bird is he ; 
The stoic of the hollow tree, 
Or watcher in the ruin d tower, 
Who reads the stars at midnight hour; 
And though his note be harsh or strong, 
'Tis Nature that inspires the song — 
Tu whit ! tu whoo ! — a merry lay ; 
The night has mirth as well as day ! 



205 



AN AUTUMNAL LYRIC. 

I. 

How liberal and lovely- 
Is all the varied year ! 
The Winter only showers, 
And the Summer only flowers, 

To bring ripe Autumn here. 
When roar'd the wintry tempest, 

When fell the sleet and snow, 
When rush'd the mountain torrents 

In vernal overflow ; 
When fell the sweet spring blossoms 

Into the lap of June, 
And leaves grew thick and juicy 

In many a summer noon : 
'Twas all for sake of Autumn, 

So bountiful and free — 
'Twas all for the golden harvest — 

'Twas all for thee and me ! 

II. 

We've lost the Spring-time glories, 

And pomp of Summer's day ; 
We prized them well and truly, 
But form'd no wish unduly 

That all the months were May. 
We knew, and we were grateful, 

That after these had fled, 
The wheat-stalk, fully laden, 

Would bear a heavy head ; 



206 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

That mulberries would ripen, 

And filberts cluster brown, 
And winds through orchards roving 

Shake pulpy apples down. 
We knew that fruitful Autumn 

Would smile on field and tree, 
And pour its annual treasure, 

And all for thee and me ! 

in. 

And now that we have garner'd 

The tribute of the year 3 
We'll seek our humble fellows 
For whom no Gorn-field yellows, 

And bid them to our cheer. 
And, grateful for the blessings 

So bounteously bestow'd, 
We'll share them with the needy 

That meet us on the road ; 
With the gleaner and the beggar, 

And the man of low estate, — 
With the widow and the orphan, 

And the stranger at our gate. 
So shall the Autumn bless us, 

And Heaven be pleased to see ; 
And the prayers of the sorrow-stricken 

Ascend for thee and me ! 



207 



" I LOVE MY LOVE." 



What is the meaning of the song 
That rings so clear and loud, 

Thou nightingale amid the copse— 
Thou lark above the cloud % 

What says thy song, thou joyous thrush, 
Up in the walnut-tree? 
" I love my Love, because I know 

" My Love loves me." 

II. 

• What is the meaning of thy thought, 
O maiden fair and young? 
There is such pleasure in thine eyes, 

Such music on thy tongue; 
There is such glory on thy face — 
What can the meaning be ? 
" I love my Love, because I know 
"My Love loves me." 

in. 

O happy words ! at Beauty's feet 
We sing them ere our prime ; 

And when the early summers pass, 
And Care comes on with Time, 

Still be it ours, in Care's despite, 
To join the chorus free — 
"I love my Love, because I know 

" My Love loves me." 



208 SONGS FOB MUSIC. 



THE OFFERED FLOWER. 



Take the flower, and with it 

All its meanings deep : 
Fancies and emotions 

In its petals sleep. 
To thy heart I send it, 

To evoke a spell, 
Full of tender secrets 

Which I may not tell. 

ii. 

Take the flower — it carries 

Feelings pure and new, 
Hopes and aspirations, 

And a love most true. 
Not as flower, but symbol, 

Is it offer'd thee, 
Of a thought unspoken, 

And a mystery. 

in. 

Take the flower — its message 

Challenges reply ; 
Vows, as well as questions, 

In its petals lie. 
Send me back no questions ; 

But let looks alone 
Tell me hope's fruition — 

Thou wilt be mine own. 



209 



YOU LOVE ME NOT. 



You love me not as once you loved ; 

Your face your truth denies ; 
And when you speak of faith unchanged, 

I doubt you by your eyes. 
A spirit looks from you to me, 

Discover'd though unseen, 
Whose whispers mingle with your own, 

And tell me what you mean. 

ii. 

The secret sympathies of love 

Give warning to my pride ; 
Your look, your smile, your very touch, 

Heveal what you would hide. 
I cannot prove the truth I feel, 

But, ah ! my heart is sore ; 
The dreams of happy love are pass'd, 

The world is mine no more. 



210 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE BLUE SKY. 
I. 

'Tis true that youthful hopes deceive, 

But ever the flowers return with Spring ; 
That tenderest love has cause to grieve, 

But still when the young birds pair they sing 
The west winds play with the leaves of May, 

And the peach hangs ripe on the garden wall ; 
And the blossoms grow and the fountains flow, 

And the bright blue sky bends over all. 

II. 

Though Love may fade with early prime, 

As the cowslips fade on the fallow lea, 
Yet Friendship cheers the face of time, 

As the sunshine gilds the apple-tree ; 
The morning's pain may be evening's gain, 

And sometimes 'mid the flowers we fall ; 
And the sun for thee is the light for me, 

And the bright blue sky bends over all. 

in. 

The Reason lives when Fancy dies, 

For the season's blessings never fail ; • 
And Winter oft has brighter skies 

Than April with her sleet and hail. 
Our joys and cares are wheat and tares, 

And our griefs, when ripe, like the fruit, must fall ; 
And come what will, 'tis justice still, 

For the bright blue sky bends over all. 



211 



ONCE MY DREAMS, FROM MORN TO NIGHT. 
I. 

Once my dreams, from morn to night, 

Were of bowers enchanted ; 
Fancy built them, and Delight 

All their pathways haunted. 
Thus I stray' d with young Romance, 

Until Time, the warner, 
Roused me from my idle trance, 

In the chimney-corner. 

H. 

Sitting there while life was new, 

I beheld a treasure, — 
Two bright eyes of tender blue, 

Beaming love and pleasure. 
Round my feet the children play'd,— 

Love was Life's adorner, 
Peace its dwelling-place had made 

In my chimney-corner. 

in. 

" What," cried I, " are bowers of bliss, 

" Baseless, void, and fleeting, 
" To a happy home like this, 

" With its fond hearts beating % 
"Love, if thou wilt guide my way 

" I'll defy the scorner ; 
li And be happy while I may 

" In the chimney-corner 
f2 



212 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



TEUSTIXG HEAET. 



Trusting Heart ! though men deceive thee, 

Though good fortune's noon be past, 
Though the friends of summer leave thee, 

Fearful of the wintry blast ; 
Love remains, if these forsake thee, 

True, ay, truer than before ; 
Why should worldly sorrows break thee? — 

Heart ! take courage, sigh no more. 

II. 

What though tempests gather o'er us ? 

Storms not always vex the sea ; 
Sunshine yet may gleam before us ; 

There are calms for thee and me. 
Fortune's gifts are unavailing ; 

Ours are gifts she never bore, — 
Love unchanging, hope unfailing — 

Heart ! take courage, sigh no more. 



213 

THOU WHO IN DANGER AND STUIFE. 

I. 

thou who in danger and strife 
Wert ever the guide and the friend, 

Whose smiles were the joy of a life, 
Whose counsel was " hope to the end ;" 

Though wild were the storms that are past, 
Though wealth seem'd a withering tree, 

There was balm on the wings of the blast, 
And a spring-time of healing in thee. 

II. 

1 loved thee in days of my youth, 
When Time and its promise were fair, 

But not with the fervour of truth, 

1 felt in my sorrow and care. 

I knew not, till men had betray'd, 
How deep thy devotion might be ; 

Nor found, until hope had decay'd, 
What better than hope was in thee. 

in. 

The sunshine of Fortune is warm, 

As we bask in its blaze on the hill : 
Come, spirit that govern'd the storm, 

And temper prosperity still ! 
Like the roseate glow of the west, 

That streams on the calm summer sea. 
Thy love shall illumine my breast, 

And my life be reflected from thee. 



214 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



SIGH NOT! JOY'S IN SEASON. 
[Air: This Great World is a Trouble.] 

I. 

Sigh not ! joy 's in season ! 

Though the world go sometimes wrong, 
Can you think to right it, 

Drawing faces long ? 
Laugh, man ! think no evil, 

Fools alone look always wise : 
Sing, man ! Nature woos you, 

Under sunny skies. 
Out, then ! out, like childhood ! 
Mead, grove, glen, and wildwood, 
All breathe the breath of heaven, and call you 

forth to play. 
Laugh, man ! Laughing 's wholesome ! 
Sing, man ! Why so dolesome ? 
Come close your musty books, and taste the summer 

day! 

ii. 

"Wealth wears bird-like pinions, — 

Flies away, or drowns, or burns; 
Fame dies, slain by scorning ; 

Lost love ne'er returns. 
Laugh, man ! Harmless pleasure 

Lies around us free as air ; 
Sing, man ! Join our chorus, — 

Mirth has music rare. 



JOYS OF THE PAST. 215 

Faint heart ! Over the ferry 

Rows best he who 's merry, 
While Sadness ever drifts entangled in the stream. 

Laugh, man ! Laughing 's wholesome ; 

Sing, man ! Why so dolesome ? 
Bright shines the summer sun — come forth and 

share its beam ! 



JOYS OF THE PAST. 
I. 

Joys of the past ! are they vanish'd for ever ? 

Flow 'rets soon gather d and sooner decay 'd ; 
Ripples of light upon Time's flowing river, 

Lost with the breath o'er its bosom that stray'd 1 
No ; there are hours in the heart's happy sadness, 

When they return, amid sunshine and rain ; 
Memory, bright as a rainbow of gladness, 

Spans the dark sky with their beauty again. 

II. 

Visions of glory, half cloud and half splendour, 

Flash on the soul, looking back through the years ; 
Hopes that were lofty, and loves that were tender, 

Gleam through the haze of our passionate tears. 
Vainly, oh ! vainly our hearts would restore them ; 

Fair though they glitter, how quickly they're gone ! 
Echoes that die with the music that bore them, 

Lights that are darken'd the moment they've 
shone. 



216 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE ONLY SHILLING. 
I. 

Roaming through the wild wood 

In a morn of May, 
Blithe as happy childhood, 

Singing care away ; 
Sunshine sparkled o'er me, 

Life was new and fair; 
The way was broad before me, 

And joy was in the air. 

ii. 

One remember'd shilling 

Was my only wealth ; 
But my hand was willing, 

I had youthful health, 
Fancies, full of riches, 

And a heart of grace, 
And hopes, the lovely witches ! 

That look'd me in the face. 

in. 

" Fortune ! you may flout me 1 

" I am rich," quoth I ; 
"Beckon, if you doubt me, 

" What your gold can buy. 
u Can it purchase pleasures, 

" Such as health affords % 
"And strength and hope are treasures, 

" As rich as any lord's. 



THE ONLY SHILLING. 217 

IV. 

" Hand for honest labour, 

" Head to hope the best ; 
" Heart to love my neighbour, 

" Faith for all the rest : 
" These, and power to use them, 

" Are the wealth I hold ; 
Ci And fool I'd be to lose them, 

"For all Australia's gold. 

v. 

" Shilling, if I spend thee, 

" Still the fountains run ! 
« Shilling, if I lend thee, 

" Others may be won ! 
" Fortune, if you love me, 

" You can seek my door ; 
" If not, there's Heaven above me, 

" And ne'er will I deplore." 

VI. 

Thus, in Life's young morning, 

Singing as I went, 
Fear and danger scorning, 

I was still content. 
Fortune never hail'd me, — 

None the worse I've sped ; 
For courage never fail'd me, 

Nor yet my daily bread, 



218 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



COULD WE RECALL DEPARTED JOYS, 



Could we recall departed joys, 

At price of parted pain, 
Oh, who that prizes happy hours 

Would live his life again? 
Such burning tears as once we shed, 

No pleasure can repay ; — 
Pass to oblivion, joys and griefs I 

We're thankful for To-day ! 

ii. 

Calm be the current of our lives, 

As rivers deep and clear : 
Mild be the light upon our path, 

To guide us and to cheer. 
For streams of joy that burst and foam 

May leave their channels dry, 
And deadliest lightnings ever flash 



The brightest in the sky. 



219 



THE DAY HAS GONE. 
[Air: Old English.] 






Oh ! the day has gone, the mournful day ! 

It pass'd with the midnight chime, 
Like a sear leaf from the tree, 
Like a rain-drop in the sea, 

Like a sob from the heart of Time. 

II. 

Oh ! the day has gone, the wasted day ! 
It brought us both joy and pain, — 
A pleasure that has fled, 
And a sorrow that is dead ; — 
They shall never revive again ! 

in. 

With the day that's gone let Sorrow go ! 
We bore it without a tear : 

It was well inclined to stay, 

But we reason'd it away, 
And we gave it no welcome here. 

IV. 

And though the joys with the griefs are lost, 
Like the snow-flakes on the stream, 
There are others to be born 
On the sunlight of the morn ; — 
Let us smile in their purple beam ! 



220 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



V. 

Lo ! the day is dead ! good night, good night ! 
And the day is born— good day ! 
There's a voice upon the blast, 
And the sand is falling fast ; — 
Let us sing and rejoice while we may ! 



THE SUNSHINE AND THE RAIN. 



Oh, where would be the golden corn, 

And where the ripe red wine — 
The rich man's wealth, the poor man's health, 

Wert not for summer shine 1 
And where would be the sheep and beeves, 

And plenty of the plain, 
And where the light of beauty's eyes, 

If 'twere not for the rain ? 



II. 

There's no man rich, there's no man poor, — 

The sunshine 's free to all ; 
The meanest beggar ever born 

May thank the rains that fall. 
The grandest gifts that Heaven bestows, 

Are mine and thine in vain, 
If we cannot bless with grateful hearts 

The sunshine and the rain. 




THE MILLER OF DEE 



221 
THE MILLER OF THE DEE. 

[Air: The Jolly Miller.] 
I. 

There dwelt a miller hale and bold, 

Beside the river Dee ; 
He work'd and sang from morn to night, 

No lark more blithe than he ; 
And this the burden of his song 

For ever used to be, — 
" I envy nobody : no, not I, 

"And nobody envies me I" 

ii. 

"Thou'rt wrong, my friend!" said old King Hal, 

" Thou'rt wrong as wrong can be ; 
" For could my heart be light as thine, 

" I'd gladly change with thee. 
u And tell me now what makes thee sing 

u With voice so loud and free, 
"While I am sad, though I'm the King, 

" Beside the river Dee ? " 

hi. 

The miller smiled and dofF'd his cap : 

" I earn my bread," quoth he ; 
" I love my wife, I love my friend, 

" I love my children three ; 
" I owe no penny I cannot pay ; — 

" I thank the river Dee, 
" That turns the mill that grinds the corn, 

" To feed my babes and me." 



222 SONGS FOK MUSIC. 

IV. 

"Good friend !" said Hal, and sigh'd the while 

" Farewell ! and happy be ; 
" But say no more, if thou'dst be true, 

" That no one envies thee, 
" Thy mealy cap is worth my crown, — 

" Thy mill my kingdom's fee ! 
"Such men as thou are England's boast, 

"O miller of the Dee!" 



DUKE HUMPHREY'S DINNER. 

I. 

With Humphrey the Duke long ago, 

I dined in the cold open air ; 
The wind whistled keen o'er the snow, 
And my cloak was as fine as my fare. 
The banquet we spread 
Was the best fancy bread, 
And our drink was of water, the mother of wine ; 
But the talk that we had, 
Though 'twas sober and sad, 
Was as brave, Father Money, as thine. 

II. 

For Humphrey, though haughty, is free, 
And teaches his truths to the wise, 

And the lessons he offer'd to me 

Were pearls that a Crcesus might prize. 



MEADOW-SWEET. 223 

I've learn'd from that time 

How to gather and climb ; 
I've feasted the noble, the great, the desired ; 

But never since then, 

From the sagest of men, 
Learn'd half what my Humphrey inspired. 

in. 

'Twere vain, ye Mighty and High, 

To tell you the truths that he told ; 
In the deeps of a well never dry, 
They rest in the darkness and cold. 
Who never was down, 
Be he noble or clown, 
May find in Duke Humphrey small wit to commend ; 
But in sorrow and pain, 
There is wisdom to gain, 
By all who make Humphrey their friend. 



MEADOW-SWEET. 
I. 

Rose ! we love thee for thy splendour, 

Lily ! for thy queenly grace ! 
Violet ! for thy lowly merit, 

Peeping from thy shady place ! 
But mine airy, woodland fairy, 

Scattering odours at thy feet, 
No one knows thy modest beauty, 

No one loves thee, Meadow-Sweet ! 



22i SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



Yet thou'rt fair and worth a blessing,- 

Let me give it as I pass, — 
And detect thee, ere I see thee, 

'Mid the circling ferns and grass. 
Charm of many a woodland valley, 

Balm-bestower ! boon complete ! 
Unbepraised in song or story — , 

Take my blessing, Meadow-Sweet ! 



THE DANGEKS. 
I. 

Oh, child ! beware ! 
The treacherous stream runs deep ; 

The ice may glitter fair, 

Yet be too soft thy weight to bear. 
Stay, infant, stay ! nor 'tempt the dangerous leap ; 

For winter frost, as thou wilt find, 

Is often false as summer wind. 

II. 

Fond youth ! beware ! 

The glory in thine eyes, 

Or dream of love so fair, 

May fade, and leave thee to despair. 

Stay, young man, stay ! be cautious and be wise ; 
For Love and Glory lure astray, 
And scatter heart-aches on the way. 



WHAT ! BANISH LOVE 1 225 

III. 

Old age ! beware ! 

Why should thy heart grow cold ? 
Earth has no sight less fair 
Than starveling Avarice and Care. 

Stay, old man, stay ! nor hoard thine idle gold ; 
For he who worships wealth alone, 
Shall have his heart for burial-stone ! 



WHAT! BANISH LOVE? 
I. 
What ! banish love from English song, 

To please a prudish fancy, 
And sing no more of Jane or Kate, 

Of Mary or of Nancy 1 
Yes ! if you'll banish light from day, 

Or stars when evening closes, 
Or happy smiles from beauty's eyes, 

Or odour from the roses ! 

II. 

The love we sing is love refined, 

As pure as English beauty ; 
As warm and true as English hearts, 

And stanch as English duty. 
We'll banish it from English song, 

When looks no more reveal it ! 
And tongues and eyes confess, with truth. 

That hearts have ceased to feel it ! 
Q 



226 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

KING ALFRED. 

[Air : Old English,] 

I. 

King Alfred went forth to the camp of the Dane, 

And tuned his sweet harp for the foe ; 
He thought of his country with sorrow and pain, 

And sigh'd for her glory laid low. 
Then striking his hand o'er the answering chords, 

Of love and its pleasures he sang, 
Till the gathering crowd beat applause with their 
swords, 

And their tents with the melody rang. 

II. 

" Come, sing us a song of the full-flowing bowl ! " 

Exclaim'd the proud foe, as he play'd ; — 
The minstrel, though sadness lay deep on his soul, 

Look'd round with a smile, and obey'd : — 
" Who drinks the deep draught shall be strong in 
the fight, 

"Who drains to the dregs is a king!" 
Again they applauded : — " We'll pledge you to- 
night : — 

" J Tis thus that a minstrel should sing !" 

in. 

Then changing his theme, came the tune, like a wave : 

u When haughty invaders defy, 
"His fame shall be first on the roll of the brave — 

"Who meets them, to conquer or die : 



STAY ! STAY ! VISION OF YOUTH AND GRACE ! 227 

" His name shall ascend in the prayers of the free " 

"Beware!" said the foe, — "we are strong; 

" The minstrel is safe, but another than he 
" Might have paid with his life for his song ! " 



STAY ! STAY ! VISION OF YOUTH AND GRACE ! 

[Air: Old English.] 



Stay ! stay ! vision of youth and grace ! 

Stay ! stay ! radiant and happy face ! 

Stay i stay ! light of our dwelling-place ! 
Sad in thine absence we'll be. 
Thy smile was like sunshine, it glitter'd so cheerly ; 
Thy voice was like music, it rang out so clearly ; 
We knew not till now that we loved you so dearly : 

Our home will be dark without thee. 

II. 

Stay ! stay ! loving and kindly heart ! 

Stay ! stay ! joy is where'er thou art ! 

Stay ! stay ! wherefore so soon depart, 
Leaving us here in our pain 1 
Yet if, like the spring, to new lands thou art going, 
To scatter thy smiles like sweet primroses growing, 
We'll hope that with beauty and grace overflowing, 

Like spring, thou wilt come back again. 



Q2 



228 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



INDIFFERENCE. 



Scorn'd by one I loved too fondly, 

Pain'd by Passion, sad of heart, 
To mine aid Indifference hasten'd, 

Bidding tyrant Love depart. 
Ob, the sorrow deep and lasting ! 

Love, though vanquished as I bade, 
Fled and left a colder tyrant 

Master of mine heart be tray' d. 

IT. 

All the charms of life and fancy 

Wither' d in the sudden blight ; 
Friendship pined for Love's departure, 

Hope grew careless of delight ; 
Music lost her voice of rapture, 

Earth its beauty, Heaven its glow ; 
Fountains filFd with joy, were frozen 

When my tears refused to flow. 

in. 

" Oh, return, return, for pity ! " 

In my loneliness I cried ; 
"Love is better, e'en though hopeless, 

" Than Indifference and Pride. 
" Oh, return, sweet rose of pleasure ! 

" Come with all thy flowers of pain ; — 
Love rewards its own endurance ; 

" Come, sweet Tyrant, back again ! " 






229 



THE MINSTREL'S CONSOLATION. 

[Towards the end of the sixteenth century this class of men (the 
minstrels) had sunk so low in the public opinion, that in the thirty ninth 
year of Elizabeth a statute was passed by which minstrels " wandering 
abroad" were included among- " rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars," 
and were adjudged to be punished as such. — Percy's Reliques of 
Ancient English Poetry.] 



Dark is our fortune ! deep is our sorrow ! 

Harp of my country ! I wander forlorn ; 
Hope throws no longer light on the morrow ; 

Our name and our art are the by-words of 
scorn. 

II. 

Friend of my sadness, harp that I cherish ! 

Favour and glory and fame may depart, 
Still shalt thou cheer me ; Song shall not perish 

While Freedom and Love have a home in the 
heart. 

in. 

Poor men unheeding, — rich men impeding, — 
All may neglect us, or scorn if they will ; 

Yet shall thy music, loud and triumphant, 
Rise and be heard in the wilderness still. 

iv. 

Tyrants shall fear and freemen shall love us, 

Friends of the right and the foes of the wrong ! 

Wake up, despised one ! heaven is above us ; 
Oh, wake and respond to the soul of my song ! 



230 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



SEASONS AND REASONS. 



I love my love in Spring-time, 

For beauty fresh as May, 
For cheeks like early roses, 

For eyes as bright as ' day ; 
For breath like balm of lilies, 

For smiles like sunrise clear ; 
I love my love in Spring-time, 

And love her all the year. 

II. 

I love my love in Summer, 

For promise warm and true, 
For truth, like noon-day, throwing 

A light o'er old and new ; 
For wealth of bloom and freshness. 

And shady comfort near ; 
I love my love in Summer, 

And love her all the year. 



in. 

I love my love in Autumn, 

For fruit of gentle deeds, 
For wisdom to be garner'd, 

To serve our future needs ; 
For virtues ripening ever, 

Like harvests full in ear ; 
I love my love in Autumn, 

And love her all the year. 



THE WIND AND THE RAIN. 231 



IV. 

I love my love in Winter, 

For charities untold, 
For warmth of household welcome, 

For looks that thaw the cold ; 
For harmless mirth and pastime, 

As rich as Christmas cheer ; 
I love my love in Winter, 

And love her all the year. 



THE WIND AND THE EAIN. 

[Air: Hetgho ! the Wind and the Rain.] 

I. 

My hopes are cross' d, my joys are lost, 
Heigho ! the wind and the rain ! 

My winter comes in time of May, 
And tJie rain it raineth every day ; 

I wake forlorn each weary morn — 
Will sunshine never gleam again? 

II. 

The proud man smiles, the harsh reviles — 
Heigho ! the wind and the rain ! 

I pass alone through Life's dull way, 
For the rain it raineth every day ; 

Yet, ah ! not so ! though wild winds blow 
The sun shall pierce the clouds again. 



232 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

III. 

And though the worst around me burst — 
Heigho I the wind and the rain ! 

Above the storms I'll find a raj, — 
Though the rain it raineth every day : 

From winter showers come summer flowers ;- 
The light shall cheer the dark again. 



ALAS, POOE THINGS ! 

[Air: Old English.] 

I. 

Although the May-blooms wither 

Ere June's a fortnight old, 
And green leaves turn to yellow 

When nights grow long and cold ; 
Though beauty bright, our heart's delight, 

Scarce lasts a dozen springs, 
Leaf, flower, and maid, are born to fade :- 

Alas, poor things ! 

ii. 

And guineas too, that Fortune 

Strews round his path who strives, 
Fly off ere we can count them, 

Or stay to plague our lives ; 
But let them go like melting snow, 

Or sweets that summer flings ! 
They give us cheer while they are here : 

Alas, poor things ! 






'mid the new-mown hay. 233 



in. 

But still, though loves desert us, 

Or pleasures die away, 
We'll prize them while we hold them, 

Nor weep when they decay. 
No grief of ours can save the flowers, 

Or clip Enjoyment's wings; 
Then why deplore ? we'll sigh no more ; 

Alas, poor things ! 



'MID THE NEW-MOWN HAY. 

[Air : Jockey to the Fair.] 

I. 

When swallows dart from cottage eaves, 
And reapers bind the barley-sheaves ; 
When peaches peep amid the leaves, 

And woodbines scent the way, — 
We love to fly the smoky town, 
To breathe the air of woodlands brown ; 
To join our hands and form a ring, 
To laugh and sport, to dance and sing, 

Amid the new-mown hay. 

ii. 

A stranger comes with eyes of blue, 
Quoth he, " I'm Love, the young and true ; 
" I wish to pass an hour with you, 
" This pleasant summer day." 



234 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

" Come in ! come in ! you saucy elf i 

" And who's your friend i " — " 'Tis Friendship's 

self!" 
" Come each, come both, our sports to share ; 
"There's welcome kind, and room to spare, 

" Amid the new- mown hay." 

in. 

The ring is form'd ; but who are these ? 
" Come, tell your errand, if you please ; 
" You look so sour and ill at ease, 

" You dim the face of day." — 
u Ambition ! " " Jealousy ! " and " Strife ! " 
And " Scorn ! " and " Weariness of Life ! " — 
" If such your names, we hate your kin ; 
"The place is full, you can't come in, 

" Amid the new-mown hay." 

IV. 

Another guest comes bounding by, 
With brow unwrinkled, fair and high, 
With sunburnt face and roguish eye, 

And asks our leave to stay. 
Quoth he, " I'm Fun, your right good friend ! " — 
" Come in, come in ! with you we'll end ! " 
And thus we frolic in a ring, 
And thus we laugh, and dance, and sing, 

Amid the new-mown hay. 



235 



SAY NO MORE THAT LOVE DECEIVES. 



Say no more that Love deceives ; 

Love that's worthy of the name, 
Hopes, confides, endures, believes, 

In all fortune still the same, — 

Born with Truth, as heat with flame. 
If through the heart that Love might fill, 

One thought of change or falsehood rove, 
Our tongues may name it what they will ; 
"lis earthly feeling, 
Its taint revealing ; 
But, all ! we may not call it Love. 

ii. 

Selfish Pleasure often wears 

Love's pure garments for disguise ; 

And the mask that Fancy wears, 
Seems like Love to careless eyes, 
And Folly round Indifference flies. 

But Love itself is ever true ; 

JSTo guile profanes his radiant face ; 

His robes are of celestial hue : 

From heaven descending, 
O'er mortals bending, 

He points to Heaven — his dwelling-place. 



236 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

THE WINES. 
I. 
Whence comest thou, 

O lady rare, 
With soft blue eyes 

And flaxen hair, 
And showers of ringlets 

Clustering fair? 
And what hast thou got 

In that bowl of thine 1 — 
"I come," quoth she, 

" From the beautiful Rhine, 
" And in my bowl 

" Is the amber wine. 
" Pure as gold 

"Without alloy, 
" Mild as moonlight, 

" Strong as joy ; 
" Taste, and treasure it — 
" Drink, but measure it — 

"Thirsty boy!" 

II. 
And who art thou, 

So ruddy and bright, 
With round full eyes 

Of passionate light, 
And clustering tresses 

Dark as night ] 
And what hast thou drawn 

From the teeming tun ? — 






THE WINES. 237 

" I come," quoth she, 

" From the blue Garonne, 
" Where the vines are kiss'd 

" By the bountiful sun, 
"And the regal Claret, 

" Kind, though coy, 
"Flushes the hills 

" With purple joy. 
" Taste, and treasure it — 
" Drink, but measure it — 

" Thirsty boy ! " 

in. 

And whence art thou, 

W T ith bounding tread, 
With cheeks like morning, 

Rosy red, 
And eyes like meteors 

In thy head? 
And what dost thou pour 

Like je well'd rain 1 ? — 
"I come," quoth she, 

" From the sunny plain, 
" And bear a flagon 

"Of bright Champagne, — 
" Age's cordial, 

" Beauty's toy, — 
" Dancing, glancing, 

" Wine of Joy. 
" Taste, and treasure it — 
" Drink, but measure it — 

"Thirsty boy!" 



238 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE WOODMAN. 
[Air: Down among the Dead Men.] 

I. 

Five hundred years the royal tree 

Has waved in the woods his branches free 

But king no longer shall he stand, 

To cast his shadow o'er the land ; 

The hour has come when he must die : — 

Down upon the green earth let him lie ! 

II. 

No more beneath his spreading boughs 
Shall lovers breathe their tender vows ; 
No more with early fondness mark 
Their names upon his crinkled bark, 
Or idly dream and softly sigh : — 
Down upon the green earth let him lie ! 

hi. 

The lightning stroke has o'er him pass'd, 
And never harm'd him, first or last ; 
But mine are strokes more sure, I trust, 
To lay his forehead in the dust ; 
My hatchet falls, — the splinters fly : — 
Down upon the green earth let him lie ! 

IV. 

But yet, although I smite him down, 
And cast to earth his forest crown, 



THE THREE FLOWERS. 239 

The good old tree shall live again, 
To plough deep furrows o'er the main, 
And flaunt his pennant to the sky : — 
Down upon the green earth let him lie ! 



Full-breasted to the favouring breeze. 
He shall be monarch of the seas, 
And bear our Britain's triumphs far, 
In calm or tempest, peace or war ; 
'Tis but to live that he must die : — 
Down upon the green earth let him lie 



THE THREE FLOWERS. 
I. 

She wore three flowers upon her breast. 

The white, the red, the blue, — 
The snowy whiteness for the pure, 

The azure for the true ; 
And last the red, the rosy red, 

All moist with morning dew. 

II. 

" Oh, keep," I cried, " the flowers you love, 

" The violet shy and fair, 
11 And let the white camellia gleam 

" Amid your flowing hair ; 
" But give, oh, give me back the rose, 

u To cherish and to wear. 



240 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 

IIT. 

" You need it not ; your glowing cheeks 

" Its freshest bloom excel ; 
" And sweeter odours haunt your lips 

" Than in its petals dwell ; 
"And there are meanings in the flower 

" More deep than I can tell." 

IV. 

She sent it back ; she knew the thought 

Amid its leaves that lay ; 
And thus were mutual hopes confess'd, 

By symbols pure as they ; 
And thus I won my blushing bride, 

One happy summer clay. 



THE DEPARTURE OF MERLIN. 

[It is recorded in ancient legends, that when Merlin, the great seer and 
enchanter of the early Britons, set sail from England on that northern 
voyage whence he never returned, he sailed in a vessel of glass ; and 
that the Britons, sorely distressed and perplexed, implored him to grant 
them a final boon in the shape of a wall of brass to encircle the whole 
island.] 

I. 

Ere Merlin departed, and spread the bright sail 
Of his vessel of glass to the favouring gale, 
The Britons lamenting, his pity implored, 
And pray'd him to tarry, their teacher and lord. 
"Return," they exclaim'd, " be our guide and our friend, 
" And build us, O Merlin, a wall to defend ! 






THE DEPARTURE OF MERLIN. 241 

II. 

" A rampart of brass to encircle our isle, 

" That foes may not enter by force or by guile : 

" Their numbers are many, their captains are strong ; 

" They ravage our coasts, and have plunder'd us long. 

" O Merlin ! great Merlin ! thy promise we claim, 

" And ages unnumber'd shall hallow thy name ! " 

in. 

A voice from the ship sounded loud o'er the land : 
" Unworthy of freedom, why sleeps the right hand 1 
" Who hides under ramparts with blood in his veins, 
" But welcomes the tyrant, and sues for his chains. 
" Degenerate Britons ! ye shame of the sea ! 
f The souls of the brave are the walls of the free ! " 

IV. 

In tempest and lightning great Merlin set forth, 
And turn'd his weird ship to the mists of the North ; 
But ever an echo came over the wave, — 
" A nation's defence is the souls of the brave ! " 
The Britons, sad-hearted, remain'd on the shore ; 
But Merlin was seen in their isles never more. 



«-oCaJ9X(1a>o>- 



R 



24:2 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

THE DEATH-SONG OF THALIESSIN. 
I. 

I have a people of my own, 

And great or small, whate'er they be, 

9 Tis Harp and Harper, touch and tone — 
There's music between them and me. 

II. 

And let none say, when low in death 
The soul-inspiriDg minstrel lies, 

That I misused my hand or breath 
For favour in my people's eyes. 

in. 

"Whate'er my faults as mortal man, 
Let foes revive them if they must ! 

And yet a grave is ample span 

To hide their memory with my dust ! 

IV. 

But give, oh ! give me what I claim, — 
The Harper's meed, the Minstrel's crown- 

I never sang for sake of Fame, 
Or clutch'd at baubles of renown. 

v. 

I spoke my thought, I sang my song, 
Because I pitied, felt, and knew ; 

I never glorified a wrong, 

Or sang approval of th' untrue. 



CARELESS. 243 



VI. 



And if I touch'd the people's heart, 
Is that a crime in true men's eyes* 

Or desecration of an art 

That speaks to human sympathies? 



VII. 



As man, let men my worth deny ; 

As Harper, by my harp I stand, 
And dare the Future to deny 

The might that quiver'd from my hand. 



VIII. 



A King of Bards, though scorn' d and poor, 
I feel the crown upon my head, 

And Time shall but the more secure 
My right to wear it. — I have said. 



CAKELESS. 

Spring gave me a friend, and a true, true love ; — 

The summer went carolling by, 
And the autumn brown'd, and the winter frown'd, 

And I sat me down to sigh ; 
My friend was false for the sake of gold, 

Ere the farmer stack' d his rye ; 
And my true love changed with the fickle west wind. 

Ere winter dull'd the sky : 
But the bees are humming — a new spring 's coming, 

And none the worse am I ! 
r2 



244 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE RAPID STREAM. 

[Air: Parthenia.] 

I. 

Streamlet ! swiftly flowing, 
Down through the corn-fields going, 

Stay thy course with me. 
For us the skylarks sing, 
For us awakes the Spring ; 
There's time to spare, the earth is fair; 

Why hurry to the sea ] 

II. 

The sky is bright above thee, 
Silvery branches love thee, 

Bending to the reeds ; 
No mill with busy wheel, 
Or ship with ploughing keel, 
With sad unrest disturbs thy breast, 

Amid thy flowery meads. 

Hi. 

Ambition's voice may woo thee, 
Glory and Gold may sue thee ; 

All are empty breath. 
The end is still the same, 
And Power, and Wealth, and Fame, 
But run at last through deserts vast, 

To swell the sea of Death. 



a lover's dreams. 245 



IV. 

Then why, without enjoying 
Pleasures around us toying, 

Pass our rapid day J 
Our cares will come full soon, 
Beneath the icy moon, 
And we'll behold the ocean cold ;— 

Let's linger while we may ! 



A LOVER'S DREAMS. 

[Music by Charles Mackay.] 

I. 

I dream'd thou wert a fairy Harp, 

Untouched by mortal hand, 
And I the voiceless, sweet west wind, 

A roamer through the land. 
I touch' d, I kiss'd thy trembling strings, 

And lo ! my common air 
Throbb'd with emotion caught from thee, 

And turn'd to music rare. 

II. 

I dream'd thou wert a Eose in bloom, 

And I the gale of spring, 
That sought the odours of thy breath, 

And bore them on my wing. 



246 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

"No poorer thou, but richer I, — 

So rich, that far at sea, 
The grateful mariners were glad, 

And bless'd both thee and me. 

in. 

I dream'd thou wert the Evening Star 

And I a lake at rest, 
That saw thine image all the night 

Reflected on my breast. 
Too far ! — too far ! — come dwell on Earth, 

Be Harp and Rose of May ; — 
I need thy music in my heart, — 

Thy fragrance on my way. 



CASTLE ATHELSTONE. 

I. 

Through porch and hall the ivies creep. 
In Beauty's bower the wild winds weep, 
The raven haunts the turret lone ; 
Alas for fallen Athelstone ! 

II. 

No more the earls and knights of old, 
In pomp and pride of steel and gold, 
With nodding plumes and trumpet-tone, 
Come down to mighty Athelstone. 




THE HAUNTED BALL-ROOM 



THE HAUNTED BALL-ROOM. 247 

III. 

No more their sons, the rich and great, 
Receive the needy at their gate ; 
And call the fruitful shire their own : 
Their names are lost in Athelstone. 

IV. 

No more their daughters, fair and proud, 
Demand the homage of the crowd ; 
Their smiles made light where'er they shone : 
Their place is dark in Athelstone ! 

v. 

Their last descendant toils for bread, 
And mourns the glory that has fled ; 
In distant lands he dwells unknown, 
And sighs for ruin'd Athelstone ! 



THE HAUNTED BALL-EOOM. 
[Air: Old English.] 

I. 

Hark ! sweet music's airy measure, 

Throbbing up in waves of song ! 
What have I to do with pleasure? 

Let me fly the joyous throng. 
For she comes amid the dancers, 

Woman-shaped, — a dream, — a breath ! 
Let me fly ! — fly ! fly from anguish ! 

Fly, fly from living death ! 



248 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 

Dripping wet, with garments trailing, 

I behold her, lost too soon, 
Through the filmy twilight sailing 

Slow between me and the moon. 
Evermore her lifted finger 

Points reproachful to my breast ; — 
Let me die ! — die ! die for pity ! 

Die ! die ! and be at rest I 

in. 

Oh, the melancholy river ! 

O'er her face the waters roll ; 
Heaven forgive her, and receive her ! — 

There's a darkness on my soul ! 
Great the wrong, and great the sorrow ; 

None can tell the pangs I bear ; 
For she's lost ! — lost ! lost for ever ! 

Lost ! lost ! to my despair ! 



THE HAWTHOKN AND THE IVY. 

[Music by Charles Mack ay.] 

I. 

The Hawthorn bloom'd to the vernal air, 
Merry and free in the woodland fair, 
Attired in garments nuptial white, 
She was a glory to the sight ; 
Her breath was sweeter than the morn : 
A beautiful tree was the wild Hawthorn. 



THE HAWTHORN AND THE IVY. 249 



II. 

The Ivy rooted by lier side, 

Woo'd and won her for his bride ; 

She was fain to be embraced, — 

He twined his arms about her waist : 

" Oh joy ! " said he, " that I was born, 

" To love this beautiful wild Hawthorn ! " 

IIL 

Alas ! for this world of grief and pain ! 

Wed, not mated, were the twain : 

She was tender, mild, and true ; 

He was selfish, through and through, 

And waved his leaves to the winds, in scorn 

Of his blossoming, beautiful, wild Hawthorn. 

IV. 

She could not drink the dew or shower, 
Or feel the warmth of Summer's hour ; 
The Ivy stood between her heart 
And all the life the skies impart : 
She pined, she sigh'd, she lived forlorn, 
And died in her sorrow—the wild Hawthorn ! 



250 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE EGLANTINE. 

[Music by Charles Mack ay.] 



Modest brier ! odour shedding 

Down the lanes to cottage doors ; 
Morn herself, if failing sweetness, 

Might replenish from thy stores. 
Charm of wild woods ! humbly virtuous ; 

Heedless thou to flaunt or shine ; — 
Rich men praise thee, poor men bless thee, 

Shy but lovely Eglantine ! 



II. 

Clad in garments white as lilies, 

Newly wash'd by April's tears, 
Scattering smiles like sunshine round her, 

Lo ! my love, my queen, appears. 
Fragrant brier ! like the maiden ! 

Fair, but prizing virtue best ; 
Freshly gather'd, love inviting, 

Go and bloom upon her breast ! 



251 



LOVE ; NEW AND OLD. 



And were they not the happy days, 

When Love and I were young, 
When Earth was robed in Heavenly light, 

And all creation sung? 
When gazing in my true love's face, 

Through greenwood alleys lone, 
I guess'd the secrets of her heart, 

By whispers of mine own ? 

II. 

And. are they not the happy days, 

When Love and I are old, 
And silver Evening has replaced 

A Morn and Noon of gold 1 
Love stood alone 'mid youthful joy ; 

But now, by Sorrow tried, 
It sits, and calmly looks to Heaven, 

With angels at its side. 



252 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



WHO SHALL BE FAIREST ? 

[Music by Frank Mori.] 

I. 

Who shall be fairest? 

Who shall be rarest ? 
Who shall be first in the songs that we sing? 

She who is kindest 

When Fortune is blindest, 
Bearing through winter the blooms of the spring ; 

Charm of our gladness, 

Friend of our sadness, 
Angel of Life, when its pleasures take wing ! 

She shall be fairest, 

She shall be rarest, 
She shall be first in the songs that we sing ! 

ii. 

Who shall be nearest, 

Noblest, and dearest, 
Named but with honour and pride evermore? 

He, the undaunted, 

Whose banner is planted 
On Glory's high ramparts and battlements hoar ; 

Fearless of danger, 

To falsehood a stranger, 
Looking not back while there's Duty before ! 

He shall be nearest, 

He shall be dearest, 
He shall be first in our hearts evermore ! 



253 



ENGLISH VIRTUES. 

[Air: The British Grenadier.] 

I. 

The virtues of Old England ! 

We'll count them if we can, 
And prove to all who doubt us 

What makes the Englishman ; 
What makes us stand the foremost 

Among the brave and free ! 
What did our sires in days of old, 

And what in ours will we. 

II. 

From Agincourt and Cressy, 

To Nile and Inkermann, 
We've shown the wondering nations 

What English valour can. 
Our foes have felt our courage 

In every clime and sea ; 
Our fathers stood like solid oak, 

And so, to death, will we. 

in. 
In times when evil fortune 

Assail'd our country's cause, 
Around the throne we've rallied, 

Defenders of our laws ; 
Around the throne and altar, 

And home, the sheltering tree ; 
Thus did of old our loyal sires, 

And so, true hearts, will we. 



254: SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



IV. 



Our ships in ev'ry ocean 

Are messengers of peace ; 
They carry happy tidings. 

And bid the world increase. 
Our traders thrive by honour ; 

Their words and bonds agree ! 
Our fathers wrought for honest gold, 

And won it — so will we. 



And in all times and places, 

We cherish woman's worth ; 
Through all our isles we own her 

The love-light of the earth ; 
To youth and age we offer 

Respect and bended knee ; 
Thus did our sires, and taught their sons, 

And so, true hearts, will we. 

VI. 

And if we're rich and thriving, 

We'll keep an open door ; 
If poor ourselves, the poorer 

Shall taste our little store. 
The hospitable wine-cup 

Shall circle in our glee ; — 
Our fathers spread the welcome board, 

And so, true hearts, will we. 



the sailor's wife. 255 



VII. 

The virtues of Old England ! 

We'll prove them, if we can ! 
And show to all who doubt us 

What makes the Englishman ; 
What makes us stand the foremost 

Among the brave and free. 
Thus did our sires in days of old, 

And so, true hearts, will we ! 



THE SAILOR'S WIFE. 



I've a letter from thy sire, 

Baby mine, Baby mine ! 
I can read and never tire, 

Baby mine ! 
He is sailing o'er the sea — 
He is coming back to thee — 
He is coming home to me, 

Baby mine ! 

II. 

He's been parted from us long, 

Baby mine, Baby mine ! 
But if hearts be true and strong, 
Baby mine ! 



25Q SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

They shall brave Misfortune's blast, 
And be overpaid at last 
For all pain and sorrow pass'd, 
Baby mine ! 

in. 
Oh, I long to see his face, 

Baby mine, Baby mine ! 
In his old accustom'd place, 

Baby mine ! 
Like the rose of May in bloom — 
Like a star amid the gloom — 
Like the sunshine in the room, 
Baby mine ! 

IV. 

Thou wilt see him and rejoice, 

Baby mine, Baby mine ! 
Thou wilt know him by his voice, 

Baby mine ! 
By his love-looks that endear — 
By his laughter ringing clear — 
By his eyes that know not fear, 

Baby mine ! 

v. 

I'm so glad — I cannot sleep, 

Baby mine, Baby mine ! 
I'm so happy — I could weep, 

Baby mine ! 
He is sailing o'er the sea — 
He is coming home to me — 
He is coming back to thee, 

Baby mine ! 



257 
THE SAILOR'S WIFE. 

PART II.— THE APPROACHING SHIP. 



O'er the blue ocean gleaming, 

She sees a distant ship, 
As small to view- 
As the white sea-mew 

Whose wings in the billows dip. 
a Blow, favouring gales, in her answering sails ! 

" Blow steadily and free ! 
"Rejoicing, strong, 
" Singing a song 

* Her rigging and her spars among, 
"And waft the vessel in pride along, 

"That bears my love to me." 

ii. 

Nearer— still nearer driving, 

The white sails grow and swell ; 

Clear to her eyes 

The pennant flies, 
And the flag she knows so well. 
"Blow, favouring gales, in her answering sails! 
" Waft him, oh, gentle sea ! 

"And still, O heart, 

" Thy fluttering start ! 

"Why throb and beat as thou wouldst part, 

" When all so happy and bless'd thou art 1 
" He comes again to thee ! " 



258 SCXNGS FOR MUSIC. 

III. 

The swift ship drops her anchor; 
A boat puts off for shore ; 
Against its prow 
The ripples flow, 
To the music of the oar. 
"And art thou here, mine own, my dear, 
"Safe from the perilous sea? — 
"Safe, safe at home, 
" No more to roam ! 

" Blow, tempests, blow, — my love has come, — 
"And sprinkle the clouds with your dashing 
foam ! 
"He shall part no more from me !" 



THE LAST QUARREL. 
I. 

The last time that we quarrell'd, love, 

It was an April day, 
And through the gushing of the rain 
That beat against the window pane, 

We saw the sunbeams play. 
The linnet never ceased its song, 

Merry it seem'd, and free ; — 
" Your eyes have long since made it up, 

" And why not lips ? " quoth he. 
You thought — I thought — and so 'twas done, 



Under the greenwood tree. 






TIME AND THE SPRING. 259 



II. 

The next time that we quarrel, love, — 

Far distant be the day 
Of chiding look or angry word ! — 
We'll not forget the little bird 

That sang upon the spray. 
Amid your tears, as bright as rain 

When Heaven's fair bow extends, 
Your eyes shall mark where love begins, 

And cold estrangement ends. 
You'll think — I'll think — and, as of old, 

You'll kiss me, and be friends. 



TIME AND THE SPRING. 
I. 

" Oh ! spare my tender flowers ! 

"My lilies born of light, 
"My snowy apple-blooms, 

" My roses, red and white, — 
" Oh ! spare them every one ! " 

Said Spring the young and fair, 
To Time, whose hand had strewn 

Her blossoms in the air. 
" Why should they perish 

" That fill the world with joy 1 
" Be kind, O Time, and spare them,- 

" 'Tis cruel to destroy ! " 
s 2 



260 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 

" O foolish maid ! " said Time, 

" Renounce the idle suit ; — 
" To grant it would deprive 

" The Autumn of its fruit. 
" Be thankful for the gifts 

" That bounteous Heaven bestows ; 
" Enjoy them while they last, 

" Nor mourn the fading rose. 
" The world would weary, 

" Did night not follow day ; 
"And Spring herself would perish, 

"If every month were May." 



FLOWEKS IN THE STEEAM. 

[Music by Frank Mori.] 

I. 

What flowerets, river ! 
Fast flowing for ever, 
I threw on thy bosom 

In youth's early day, 
O river ! sad river, 

Fast flowing away ! 
Hope blooming brightly, 
Joy springing lightly, 
Love, fair as sunshine, 

And born in its ray ; 
O river ! sad river, 

I mourn their decay ! 



UNHAPPY JOHN. 261 

II. 

Serenely thou flowest, 
Rejoicing thou goest, 
While / stand lamenting 

The summers of yore, 
O river ! sad river, 

Alone on thy shore ! 
Love unrequited, 
Hopes that are blighted, 
Joys long departed, 

Thou canst not restore ; — 
O river ! dark river, 

They blossom no more ! 



UNHAPPY JOHN. 
I. 

Unhappy John doubts woman's truth, 

And vows true love is dead and gone 
Why ? — He was jilted in his youth ; 

A false fair maid abandon'd John. 
Because he found one canker d peach, 

All fruit is worthless in his eyes ; — 
Come forth, ye gentle souls, and teach 

The selfish craven how he lies; 
Come forth, ye ladies bright and fair, 

Point at him your reproving hands, 
And let your eyes your truth declare, 

And shame him where he stands I 



262 



SOXGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 

Unhappy John is sick of schemes ; 

He doubts the use of striving on : 
Why 1 — Something is amiss, it seems, 

And failure has dishearten'd John. 
He moans in pitiful distress, 

Because his projects topple down ; — 
Come forth, ye masters of success, 

Ye builders of your own renown, 
Who dig the mine or fell the oak ; 

Show him your hard and blister'd hands ; 
Tell him the worth of stroke on stroke, 

And shame him where he stands ! 



in. 

Unhappy John distrusts his kind ; 

He gives the world his malison : 
Why '? — He was somewhat weak and blind, 

And a false rogue defrauded John. 
He thinks misanthropy is right, 

If he be cheated of his pelf; — 
Come forth, true souls, and in your light 

Depict the bigot to himself! 
Come forth, ye generous and good, 

With spotless hearts and liberal hands, 
Show him the face of brotherhood, 

And shame him where he stands ! 



263 



A HAND TO TAKE. 



You're rich, and yet you are not proud; 

You are not selfish, hard, or vain ; 
You look upon the common crowd 

With sympathy, and not disdain ; 
You'd travel far to share your gold 
With humble sorrow unconsoled ; 
You'd raise the orphan from the dust, 

And help the sad and widow'd mother ; 
Give me your hand — you shall — you must ! 

I love you as a brother ! 

ii. 

You're poor, and yet you do not scorn 

Or hate the wealthy for their wealth ; 
You toil contented night and morn, 

And prize the gifts of strength and health; 
You'd share your little with a friend, 
And what you cannot give you'd lend ; 
You take humanity on trust, 

And see some merit in another. 
Give me your hand — you shall — you must ! 

I love you as a brother ! 

in. 

And what care I how rich you be ! 

I love you if your thoughts are pure. 
What signifies your poverty, 

If you can struggle and endure? 



264 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

'Tis not the birds that make the spring ; 
'Tis not the crown that makes the king ! 
If you are wise, and good, and just, 

You've riches better than all other ; — 
Give me your hand — you shall — you must ! 

I love you as a brother ! 



LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY. 

[Air: Love will find out the Way.1 

I. 

Over the mountains 

If Love cannot leap, 
Down through the valleys 

Unheeded he'll creep. 
Whatever his purpose, 

He'll do it or die ; 
And hardships and dangers 

Confess it and fly. 

II. 

Poor as a beggar, 

Yet rich as a king; 
Stormy as winter, 

But radiant as spring ; 
He's constant, he's changeful, 

He's night, and he's day ; 
A guide who misleads us, 

Yet shows us the way. 



LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY. 265 

III. 

Drown him in billows 

Deep, deep in the main, — 
Light as the sea-bird 

He'll float up again. 
You think he has perish'd 

In sleet and in showers, — 
He rises in sunlight, 

And treads over flowers. 

IV. 

Lock him in darkness, 

In grief, and in thralls, — 
Laughing to scorn you, 

He'll glide through the walls. 
Go chain up a sunbeam, 

Or cage the wild wave ; — 
Then bind him with fetters, 

And make him a slave ! 

v. 

Call him not haughty — 

He dwells with the poor ; 
Call him not feeble — ■ 

He's strong to endure ; 
And call him not foolish — 

He governs the wise ; 
Nor little — he's greater 

Than earth and the skies. 



26Q SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



GOOD NIGHT. 

[Air: Begone! Dull Care!] 

I. 

Good night ! good night ! 
The chimes ring loud and clear ; 

Good night ! good night ! 
A new-born day is near. 
Our mirth has rung, we've danced and sung, 

Our eyes have gleain'd delight ; 
The day has pass'd, we part at last ; 
To each and all, Good night ! 

ii. 

Sleep ! gentle Sleep ! 
Thy robe o'er nature lies ; 

Sleep ! gentle Sleep ! 
Steal softly on our eyes. 
And not alone to us be known 

Thy blessings calm and deep ; 
To pain and care be free as air, 
And soothe them, gentle Sleep ! 

in. 

Dreams ! happy Dreams ! 
That right life's balance wrong ; 

Dreams ! happy Dreams ! 
Your kind deceits prolong. 
Give poor men gold, make young the old, 

Show slaves where Freedom beams ; 
And shed a light on Sorrow's night. 
Ye recompensing Dreams ! 



A WELCOME TO PEACE. 2G7 

IV. 

Good night ! good night ! 
The chimes give warning clear ; 

Good night ! good night ! 
A new-born day is near. 
Our mirth has rung, we've danced and sung, 

Our eyes have gleam'd delight ; 
The day has pass'd, we part at last ; 
To each and all, Good night ! 



A WELCOME TO PEACE. 

[Music by Frank Mori.] 

I. 

Join, nations, join your hands, 

Through all your happy lands, — 

And let the church-bells ring, 

And youths and maidens sing : 

The seraph Peace from heaven descends, 

To bid mankind be friends. 

Lo I she comes ! 

Beat the drums, 
And let the banners wave o'er land and sea ! 
And harmless cannon roar 
From farthest shore to shore, — 
That strife and all its brood have ceased to be ! 

Join your hands, 

All ye lands, 
And welcome Peace ! the beautiful ! the free ! 



268 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 

No longer may the car, 
Of blind, infuriate War, 
Drive o'er the bleeding earth, 
To quench its children's mirth, 
And scatter vengeance and dismay; 
But, Peace, like flowery May, 
Spread around, 
O'er the ground, 
The seeds of joy, to blossom like a tree ! 
The fruits of Plenty's horn, 
The oil, the wine, the corn, 
And nobler blessings destined yet to be. 
Join your hands, 
All ye lands, 
And welcome Peace ! the beautiful ! the free ! 



PENDKAGON THE KING. 

[Air: Old English.] 

I. 

Of all the bold Britons Pendragon was lord ; 
His joy was in battles, his trust was the sword ; 
With his spears on the land, and his ships on the 

main, 
He drove out the Saxon, he routed the Dane, 

Great Pendragon the King ! 
Said the Britons, "We'll ne'er see a monarch again 

" Like Pendragon the King ! " 



PENDRAGON THE KING. 269 

II. 

The plague, but the pride of his people was he ; 
They fawn'd at his footstool, and thought they were 

free ; 
If any gainsay'd him, he hung them on high ; 
He tax'd them, and robb'd them, — but who could 
deny 

Great Pendragon the King 1 
His word was the law, — there were none to reply 
To Pendragon the King ! 

in. 

He died, — yet the sun shone as bright as before, 
And kiss'd the rosetree at the cottager's door : 
Neither smith at the anvil, nor child at its play, 
Nor churl at the plough, was sad-hearted that day, 

For Pen dragon the King! 
He is gone ; let him rest ! Why should pleasure 
delay 

For Pendragon the King 1 

IV. 

So runs the big world with the biggest of men : 
We are mighty, no doubt, with the sword or the pen ; 
But we fall like the leaves when the autumn is cold, 
And sleep in our place in the sheltering mould, 

Like Pendragon the King ! 
And the day follows night just the same as of old, 

And the summer, the spring. 



270 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



EACH BLOCK OF MARBLE IN THE MINE. 



Each block of marble in the mine 

Conceals the Paphian queen, 
Apollo, robed in light divine, 

And Pallas the serene : 
It only needs the lofty thought, 

To give the glories birth ; 
And, lo! by skilful fingers wrought, 

They captivate the earth. 



II. 

So, in the hardest human heart, 

One little well appears ; 
A fountain in some hidden part, 

That brims with gentle tears : 
It only needs the master-touch 

Of Love's or Pity's hand, 
And, lo ! the rock with water bursts, 

And gushes o'er the land. 



271 

LESS THAN A MAN. 
[Music by Henry Russell.] 

I. 

When at the feet of wealth and power 
He'd kneel and flatter, cringe and cower, 
Then haste some poorer man to spurn, 
And play the tyrant in his turn ; 
Then is a man less than a man — 
Then we pity him all we can. 

II. 

When by his words he leads his friends 
To danger for his selfish ends, 
And leaves them in the evil day 
To stand or fall as best they may; 
Then is a man less than a man — 
Then we pity him all we can. 

ill. 

When without sowing he would reap ; 
When he makes a vow he fails to keep ; 
When he would rather beg or steal, 
Than labour for an honest meal ; 
Then is a man less than a man — 
Then we pity him all we can. 

IV. 

When by misfortune stricken down, 

He whines and whimpers through the town, 

And never lifts his strong right arm 

To save himself from further harm : 



212 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Then is a man less than a man — 
Then we pity him all we can. 

v. 

Whene'er he plays the coward's part, 
And trifles with a woman's heart, 
Or scorns, ill-uses, and deceives 
The love that lingers and believes ; 
Then is a man less than a man — 
Then we pity him all we can. 

VI. 

When he delights in raising strife, 
Or values honour less than life ; 
When he insults a fallen foe, 
Or at a woman aims a blow, 
Then is a man less than a man — 
Then we pity him all we can. 



THE RETURN HOME. 

[Air: When I followed a Lass.] 

I. 

The favouring wind pipes aloft in the shrouds, 
And our keel flies as fast as the shadow of clouds ; 
The land is in sight, on the verge of the sky, 
And the ripple of waters flows pleasantly by, — 

And faintly stealing, 

Booming, pealing, 



THE KETURN HOME 273 

Chime from the city the echoing bells ; 

And louder, clearer, 

Softer, nearer, 
Ringing sweet welcome, the melody swells ; 
And it's home ! and it's home ! all our sorrows are 

past — 
We are home in the land of our fathers at last. 

II. 

How oft with a pleasure akin to a pain, 

In fancy we roam'd through thy pathways again, — 

Through the mead, through the lane, through the 

grove, through the corn, 
And heard the lark singing its hymn to the morn ; 

And 'mid the wild wood, 

Dear to childhood, 
Gather'd the berries that grew by the way ; 

But all our gladness 

Died in sadness, 
Fading like dreams in the dawning of day ; — 
But we're home ! we are home ! all our sorrows are 

past — 
We are home in the land of our fathers at last. 

in. 

We loved thee before, but we'll cherish thee now 
With a deeper emotion than words can avow ; 
Wherever in absence our feet might delay, 
We had never a joy like the joy of to-day ; 

And home returning, 

Fondly yearning, 

T 



274 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Faces of welcome seem crowding the shore, — 

England ! England ! 

Beautiful England ! 
Peace be around thee, and joy evermore ! 
And it's home ! and it's home ! all our sorrows are 

past — 
We are home in the land of our fathers at last. 



IF I WEEE A YOICE. 

I. 
If I were a Voice, — a persuasive Voice, — 

That could travel the wide world through, 
I would fly on the beams of the morning light, 
And speak to men with a gentle might, 

And tell them to be true. 
I'd fly, I'd fly, o'er land and sea, 
Wherever a human heart might be, 
Telling a tale or singing a song, 
In praise of the Eight — in blame of the Wrong. 

n. 
If I were a Voice, — a consoling Voice, 

I'd fly on the wings of air ; 
The homes of Sorrow and Guilt I'd seek, 
And calm and truthful words I'd speak, 

To save them from Despair. 
I'd fly, I'd fly, o'er the crowded town, 
And drop, like the happy sun-light, down 
Into the hearts of suffering men, 
And teach them to rejoice again. 






IF I WERE A VOICE. 275 

III. 

If I were a Voice, — a convincing Voice, 

I'd travel wilh the wind ; 
And whenever I saw the nations torn 
By warfare, jealousy, or scorn, 

Or hatred of their kind, 
I'd fly, I'd fly, on the thunder-crash, 
And into their blinded bosoms flash ; 
And, all their evil thoughts subdued, 
I'd teach them Christian Brotherhood. 

IV. 

If I were a Voice, — a pervading Voice, 

I'd seek the kings of earth ; 
I'd find them alone on their beds at night, 
And whisper words that should guide them right — 

Lessons of priceless worth. 
I'd fly more swift than the swiftest bird, 
And tell them things they never heard — 
Truths which the ages for aye repeat, 
Unknown to the statesmen at their feet. 

v. 

If I were a Voice, — an immortal Voice, 

I'd speak in the people's ear ; 
And whenever they shouted "Liberty" 
Without deserving to be free, 

I'd make their error clear. 
I'd fly, I'd fly, on the wings of day, 
Rebuking wrong on my world-wide way, 
And making all the earth rejoice — 
If / were a Voice — an immortal Voice. 
t2 



276 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 



THE BALLAD OF THE BEAR-HUNTEKS. 



Three hunters went a-hunting 

In wild woods far away, 
To chase the bear on mountain slopes 

At dawning of the day. 
They met Dame Joris on the road, 

Plump as a gourd was she, 
And with her went her daughter bright, 
The rose-red Margerie. 

And it's whoop ! Oho ! Hollo ! Halld ! 

The morn is shining fair. 
Whoop ! Hollo I Hoy ! and wish us joy, 
A-hunting of the bear. 

ii. 

"Get supper for us, Joris, 

" When we return to-night ; 
"Good beer and wine, and crackling chine. 

" And a fireside warm and bright. 
" Ere sets the sun, three hungry men, 

" We'll seek your hostelry ; 
"And Bruin dead in his old grey coat 
"Shall bear us company. 

" For it's whoop ! Oho ! Hollo I Hallo ! 

" The morn is shining fair. 
" Whoop ! Hollo ! Hoy I and wish us joy, 
" A-hunting of the bear." 



THE BALLAD OF THE BEAR-HUNTERS. 277 

III. 

"I've got," quo' she, "a ven'son haunch, 

"A turkey served with brawn, 
"And foaming flagons of wine as good 

" As ever from cask was drawn. 
" And if you slay the shaggy bear 

" That prowls our forests through, 
" I'll find the meat, and share the drink, 
"And charge you ne'er a sou. 

" For it's whoop ! Oho 1 Hollo I Hallo I 

" The mom is shining fair. 
" Whoop ! Hollo I Hoy ! I wish you joy, 
" A-hunting of the bear" 

IV. 

"What wilt thou give us, maiden?" 

Said Reinhold, whispering low, 
And clasp'd her by the yielding hand, 

That nobody might know. 
"I wish for something better than wine, 

"Better than golden fee, — 
" A look, a smile, or word of love, 
" From rose-red Margerie. 

" For it's whoop I Oho ! Hollo ! Hallo ! 

" The mom is shining fair. 
" Whooji I Hollo I Hoy ! and wish me joy, 
" A-hunting of the bear." 

v. 

" I'll give," quo' she, " a squeezing hand 
" When nobody is nigh, 



278 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

" A whisper cl word, a favouring smile, 

" A twinkle of the eye. 
" 111 give ; — but what have I to give, 

" Although I speak so free, 
" Unless it be a vow of truth, 
" And the heart of Margerie ? 

" For it's whoop ! Oho ! Hollo ! Hallo ! 

" The morn is shining fair. 
" Whoop ! Hollo ! Hoy I I wish you joy, 
" A-hunting of the bear? 

VI. 

They had their hunting on the hill, 

And merry men were they ; 
And a beaten foe was Bruin the bold, 

At closing of the day. 
And Joris spread a regal feast, — 

The ven'son and the chine, 
Turkey and brawn, and snow-white cheese, 
And overflowing wine. 

And 'twas ivhoop ! Oho ! Hollo ! Hallo ! 

The wine-cup circles fair: 
Whoop ! Hollo I Hoy I 'tis ever joy, 
A-hunting of the bear. 

VII. 

""We track'd his steps an hour ere noon — 

" 'Twas up amid the snow ; 
" And then we track'd him down again, 

" To his rocky dells below. 
"And then our shots — one — two — and three - 

" Went whizzing in his side ; 



SONGS WITHOUT WORDS. 279 

"And the echoes raised a thunder tone, 
" As he howl'd his last, and died. 

" And 'tis whoop ! Oho ! Hollo ! Hallo t 

" The icine-cup circles fair. 
" Whoop ! Hollo ! Hoy ! His ever joy, 
" A-hunting of the bear" 

VIII. 

And Reinhold pledged his maiden bright 

Again and yet again : 
" I've woo'd thee, Margerie, many a month, — 

"Oh, help me out of pain!" 
" There, take my hand," said Margerie fair, 

" And wed me, while you can ; 
" But go no more a-hunting, 
' ; When you're a married man. 

" For his whoop ! Oho I Hollo ! Hallo ! 

" The bachelor may care ; 
" But manned men should stay at home 
" From the hunting of the bear" 



SONGS WITHOUT WOEDS. 

I. 

Songs without words ! Through forest leaves they 
quiver, 

With softer cadence tune the torrent's roar, 
They mingle whispers with the rippling river, 

And sport in billows on the stormy shore. 



280 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

II. 

Songs without words ! How often have I sung them, 
In the fresh noontime of my life's young day, 

When hopes were free, as if kind Heaven had fluug 
them, 
Plenteous as daisies on the lap of May. 

in. 

Songs without words ! How often lonely musing, 
Fann'd by the breath of morn or evening skies, 

Have Joy and Music, mutely interfusing, 

Throbb'd in my veins and sparkled in mine eyes. 

IV. 

Songs without words ! How oft in Love's pure glad- 
ness, 

Her hand in mine, we've look'd sweet songs unsung 
Of deeper joy and more entrancing sadness 

Than e'er found accents on a mortal tongue ! 



THE SHADOW OF TREES. 

I. 

'Tis sweet, in the shade of the lofty trees, 

In the dewy morning time, 
To hear the song of the joyous lark, 
Or the distant village chime ; 
Or to sit and think, 
By a streamlet's brink, 
Breathing our thoughts in rhyme. 



THE WILL O' THE WISP. 281 

II. 

'Tis sweet, in the shade of the lofty trees, 

In the sultry hour of noon, 
To lie at length on the cooling sward, 
Secure from the heats of June ; 
To read our book 
In a lonely nook, 
While lull'd by the cuckoo's tune. 

in. 

But sweeter far than morn or noon, 

In the pleasant time of night, 
To roam alone with the lass we love, 
And look in her eyes so bright ! 
Or to sit at our ease 
Beneath the trees, 
Breathing our loving plight. 



THE WILL 0' THE WISP. 
I. 

Where the snake lurks in the tangled grass, 
By the slippery brink of the dank morass, 
Merrily O ! merrily O ! 
I light my lamp, and forth I go ! 
And to lure astray the lated wight, 

I shine all night in the swampy hollows. 

Merrily O ! merrily ! — 
Wail in £ and woe to the fool who follows ! 



282 , SONGS FOU MUSIC. 



II. 

Oh ! Love and Friendship and I make three ; 
We roam together in company ! 

Merrily O ! merrily O ! — 

We light our lamps, and forth we go ! 
Friendship showeth a steady ray, 
But its dupes ne'er dream that its heart is hollo w. 

Merrily O ! merrily ! — 
Wailing and woe to the fools who follow ! 

in. 

Oh ! Love indeed hath a fairer gleam ; — 
What is so bright as her first fond dream ] 

Merrily O ! merrily ! 

We light our lamps, and forth we go ! 
An early blight if that love be true, 
A broken heart if that love be hollow. 

Merrily ! merrily O ! — 
Wailing and woe to the fools who follow ! 



THE GEEEN BAY-TREE. 

[Music by Alexander Lee.] 

I. 

" Where is the place of their first fond meeting, 
" Where, oh ! where is that green bay-tree, 
"Under whose cover 
" The maid and her lover 



IF THE WORLD DECEIVE ME. 283 

" Plighted eternal constancy ? " 
Oh ! the winter nights were bleak and dreary, 
The storms of summer were fierce and free : 
Its trunk is shatter'd, 
Its branches are scatter' d, 
Oh ! wither'd and dead is that green bay-tree ! 

ii. 

" Where are the lovers who courted its shadow, 
" Where, oh ! where may those fond ones be % 

"The troth which they plighted, 

" How is it requited — 
" Say, have they forgotten that green bay-tree % " 
The lover was fickle and would not remember ; 
He met with another more fair than she ; 

For her — broken-hearted, 

Her peace hath departed, 
The maiden doth fade like the green bay-tree ! 



IF THE WORLD DECEIVE ME. 
[Air: Old English.] 

I. 

If the world deceive me, 

Mary ! Mary ! 
Or ill fortune grieve me, 

All the blame is mine. 
But when peace and pleasure 
O'erflow my life's full measure, 
Then, my heart's best treasure, 

Shall all the praise be thine. 



284 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



'Tis thy smile that aids me, 

Mary! Mary! 
'Tis thy light pervades me 

When the world goes wrong 
Truth that cannot vary, 
And Hope, our fireside fairy, 
Dwell with thee, my Mary, 

And cheer my heart and son^ 



CATAWBA WINE. 



Ohio's green hill-tops 

Glow bright in the sun, 
And yield us more treasure 

Than Rhine or Garonne : 
They give us Catawba, 

The mild and the true, 
As radiant as sunlight, 

As soft as the dew, 
And fragrant as gardens 

When Summer is new. 
Of all the glad vintage, 

The purest and best, 
Catawba the nectar 

And balm of the West. 



CATAWBA WINE. 285 

II. 

Champagne is too often 

A trickster malign. 
That flows from the apple 

And not from the vine ; 
But thou, my Catawba ! 

Art fresh as the rose, 
And sweet as the lips 

Of my love when they close 
To give back the kisses 

My passion bestows. 
Thou'rt born of the vintage, 

And fed on its breast, 
Catawba the nectar 

And balm of the West ! 

in. 
When pledging the lovely, 

This sparkler we'll kiss ; 
When drinking to true hearts, 

We'll toast them in this. 
For Catawba is like them, 

Though tender, yet strong, 
As pleasant as morning, 

And soft as a song, 
Whose delicate beauty 

The echoes prolong. 
Catawba ! heart-warmer ! 

Soul-cheerer ! life-zest ! 
Catawba the nectar, 

And balm of the West ! 

Cincinnati, Ohio, January, 1858. 



286 



SONGS FOit MUSIC. 



MOUNTAIN DEW. 



Mountain Dew ! clear as a Scot's understanding, 

Pure as his conscience wherever he goes, 
Warm as his heart to the friend he has chosen, 

Strong as his arm when he fights with his foes ! 
In liquor like this should old Scotland be toasted ; 
So fill up again, and the pledge we'll renew. 
Long flourish the honour 
Her children have won her ; — 
Scotland for ever, and old Mountain Dew ! 



II. 

May her worth, like her Lowland streams, roll on 
unceasing ; 

Her fame, like her Highland hills, last evermore \ 
May the cold of her glens be confined to the climate. 

Nor enter the heart, tho' it creep through the door ; 

And never may we, while we love and revere her, 

As long as we're brave, and warm-hearted, and true, 

Want reason to boast her, 

Or whisky to toast her ; — 

Scotland for ever, and old Mountain Dew! 







MOUNTAIN D3W 



287 



THE HIGHLAND EMIGRANTS. 

[Music by Charles Mackay.] 

I. 

Come away ! far away ! from tlie hills of boimie Scot- 
land ; 
Here no more may we linger on the mountain, in 
the glen ; — 
Come away ! why delay ? far away from bonnie Scot- 
land, 
Land of grouse, and not of heroes ! land of sheep, 
and not of men ! 

Mighty hunters, for their pastime, 

Needing deserts in our shires, 
Turn to waste our pleasant places, 
Quench the smoke of cottage fires. 
Come away ! why delay *? Let us seek a home denied 
us, 
O'er the oceans that divide us from the country of 
our sires. 

II. 

Come away ! far away ! from the river, from the wild 
wood ; 
From the soil where our fathers lifted freedom's 
broad claymore ; 
From the paths in the straths, that were dear to us in 
childhood ; 
From the kirk where love was plighted in the happy 
days of yore. 



288 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Men and women have no value 

Where the Bruce and Wallace grew ; 
And where stood the clansman's shieling, 
There the red-deer laps the dew. 
Come away ! far away ! But to thee, bonnie Scot- 
land, 

Wheresoever we may wander, shall our hearts be 
ever true. 

ill. 

Far away ! far away ! in the light of other regions 
We shall prove how we love thee to our children 
yet unborn. 

Far away ! far away ! we shall teach them our 
allegiance 

To thy name and to thy glory, thou beloved, though 
forlorn ! 

At recital of thy greatness 

Shall our warmest fervour swell ; 
On the story of thy sorrow 

Shall our fondest memories dwell. 
Far away ! why delay ? We are banish'd from our 

Scotland, 
From our own, our bonnie Scotland ! Fare thee well ! 
oh ! fare thee well ! 



— ^2^&&^ — ■ 



289 



BE QUIET, DO !— I'LL CALL MY MOTHER 
I. 

As I was sitting in a wood, 

Under an oak-tree's leafy cover, 
Musing in pleasant solitude, 

Who should come by but John, my lover ! 
He press'd my hand and kiss'd my cheek; 

Then, warmer growing, kiss'd the other, 
"While I exclaim'd, and strove to shriek, 

" Be quiet, do I — Til call my mother ! " 

ii. 

He saw my anger was sincere, 

And lovingly began to chide me ; 
Then wiping from my cheek the tear, 

He sat him on the grass beside me. 
He feign'd such pretty amorous woe, 

Breath'd such sweet vows one after other, 
I could but smile, while whispering low, 

"Be quiet, dot — Til call my mother!" 

in. 

He talk'd so long, and talk'd so well, 

And swore he meant not to deceive me ; 
I felt more grief than I can tell, 

When with a sigh he rose to leave me. 
" Oh ! John," said I, " and must thou go ? 

" I love thee better than all other ; 
"There is no need to hurry so, — 

u / never meant to call my mother" 
u 



290 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE MOONLIGHT DANCE. 



Come, maidens, come to our merry dance, — 
Youth and Beauty, come together ; 
Let young hearts meet 
In converse sweet, 
At twilight's time, in the summer weather ; 
By the pale light of the thoughtful moon, 

When all is hush'd, save the sighing breeze ; 
In a still and balmy night of June, 
Under the leaves of the linden-trees. 



ii. 

There song shall awake its softest tones, 
Opening all the soul to pleasure ; 
At silent eve 
Our feet shall weave 
The jocund dance to its melting measure. 
Come, maidens, come, when the night-bird's tune 

Is wafted afar on the gentle breeze, 
Come to our dance when the watchful moon 
Shines through the leaves of the linden-trees. 






291 



IF FAIRY TALES WERE TRUE. 
I. 

If fairy tales were true, 

And fortune were mj hap, 
Til tell you what I'd do— 

If I had the wishing-cap : — 
I'd make each maid a wife, 

Who'd give both heart and hand ; 
And all domestic strife 

I'd banish from the land. 

ii. 

No arm that wrought or plough'd 

Should ever toil in vain ; 
The great should not be proud, 

The small should not complain. 
The friendship of a friend 

Should last through good and ill ; 
And, constant to the end, 

Should guide the wand'rer still. 

in. 

Each little child should read 

The Book of life and light, 
And every hostile creed 

Should love and reunite. 
The triumphs of our time 

Should bless the poorest lot, 
And misery and crime 

Should die and be forgot. 
u2 






292 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

IV. 

All rulers should be just, 

All people should be wise ; 
And swords and spears should rust 

For lack of enemies : — 
If fairy tales were true, 

And fortune were my hap, 
All this, and more, I'd do, 

If I had the wishing-cap. 



THE KING AMONG MEN 
I. 

If his heart all undaunted ne'er quail'd before 
danger, 
Or fail'd to beat high for the right, 
If his doors were ne'er shut on the poor and the 
stranger, 
His tongue never false to its plight, 
To him we will drink, as a king among men — 
Wassail ! high wassail ! good health to him then ! 

ii. 

If Honour can dazzle, or Freedom inspire him, 
To fight in their cause ere she sink, 

If the wrongs of his kind or his country can fire him, 
A bumper to him we will drink. 

Though humble and poor, he is king among men — 

Wassail ! high wassail ! good health to him then ! 



293 



JOHN AND JONATHAN. 

^Recited at a public dinner given to the author in Washington, United 
States, January 14th, 1858.] 



Said Brother Jonathan to John, 

" You are the elder-born, 
" And I can bear another's hate, 

u But not your lightest scorn. 
u You've lived a life of noble strife, 

" You've made a world your own, 
« Why, when I follow in your steps, 

a Beceive me with a groan 1 

IL 

*' I feel the promptings of my youth, 

" That urge me evermore, 
" To spread my fame, my race, my name, 

" From shore to furthest shore. 
" I feel the lightnings in my blood, 

The thunders in my hand, 
u And I must work my destiny, 

" Whoever may withstand. 

in. 

u And if you'd give me, Brother John, 

11 The sympathy I crave, 
u And stretch your warm fraternal hand 

u Across the Atlantic wave, 



294 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

" I'd give it such a cordial grasp 
" That earth should start to see, 

u And ancient crowns and sceptres shake, 
" That fear both you and me.'* 

IV. 

Said Brother John to Jonathan, 

" You do my nature wrong ; 
" I never hated, never scorn 'd, 

" But loved you well and long. 
" If, children of the self-same sire, 

" We've quarreli'd now and then, 
" 'Twas only in our early youth, 

" And not since we were men. 



" And if with cautious, cooler blood, 

" Result of sufferings keen, 
" I sometimes think you move too fast, 

" Mistake not what I mean. 
" I've felt the follies of my youth, 

" The errors of my prime, 
" And dream'd for you — -my father's son — - 

" A future more sublime* 

VI. 

" And here's my hand,— 'tis freely given, 

" I stretch it o'er the brine, 
" And wish you from my heart of hearts 

" A higher life than mine. 



JOHN AND JONATHAN. 295 

" Together let us rule the world, 

" Together work and thrive ; 
" For if you're only twenty-one, 

" I'm scarcely thirty-five. 

VII. 

" And I have strength for nobler work 

" Than e'er my hand has done, 
" And realms to rule and truths to plant 

" Beyond the rising sun. 
" Take you the West ; — and I the East ; — 

" We'll spread ourselves abroad, 
" With trade and spade, and wholesome laws, 

" And faith in Man and God. 

VIII. 

" Take you the West ; — and I the East ; — 

" We speak the self-same tongue 
" That Milton wrote and Chatham spoke, 

" That Burns and Shakspeare sung ; 
" And from our tongue, our hand, our heart, 

" Shall countless blessings flow, 
" To light two darken'd hemispheres 

" That know not where they go. 

IX. 

" Our Anglo-Saxon name and fame, 

" Our Anglo-Saxon speech, 
" Received their mission straight from Heaven, 

" To civilize and teach. 



296 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

" So here's my hand, I stretch it forth ; 

" Ye meaner lands look on ! 
" From this day forth there's friendship firm 

" 'Twixt Jonathan and John ! " 



They shook their hands, this noble pair 

And o'er the " electric chain" 
Came daily messages of Peace 

And Love betwixt them twain. 
When other nations, sore oppress'd, 

Lie dark in Sorrow's night, 
They look to Jonathan and John, 

And hope for coming light. 






THE MEN OF THE NOETE 
[Air: The Duke op York's March.] 

I. 

Fierce as its sunlight, the East may be proud 
Of its gay gaudy hues and its sky without cloud ; 
Mild as its breezes, the beautiful West 
May smile like the valleys that dimple its breast ; 
The South may rejoice in the vine and the palm, 
In its groves, where the midnight is sleepy with balm : 

Fair though they be, 

There's an isle in the sea, 
The home of the brave and the boast of the free ! 
Hear it, ye lands ! let the shout echo forth, — 
The lords of the world, are the Men of the North ! 



THE MEN OF THE NORTH. 297 

II. 

Cold though our seasons, and dull though our skies, 
There's a might in our arms and a fire in our eyes ; 
Dauntless and patient, to dare and to do, — 
Our watchword is " Duty," our maxim is " Through !" 
Winter and storm only nerve us the more, 
And chill not the heart, if they creep through the 
door : 

Strong shall we be 

In our isle of the sea, 
The home of the brave and the boast of the free ! 
Firm as the rock when the storm flashes forth, 
We'll stand in our courage — the Men of the North ! 

in. 

Sunbeams that ripen the olive and vine, 

In the face of the slave and the coward may shine ; 

Roses may blossom where Freedom decays, 

And crime be a growth of the sun's brightest rays. 

Scant though the harvest we reap from the soil, 

Yet Virtue and Health are the children of Toil : 

Proud let us be 

Of our isle of the sea, 
The home of the brave and the boast of the free : 
Men with true hearts, — let our fame echo forth, — 
Oh, these are the fruit that we grow in the North ! 



298 SOKGS FOR MUSIC. 



WHEN CEISPIN WAS KING. 

I. 

When Crispin was king, there was joy in the State, 
And Plenty and Peace for the small and the great ; 
For every good fellow who lived in the land 
Had always a friend in his honest right hand ; 
And none who were able and willing to toil 
Found labour a " drug " in their dear native soil ; 
There were hams from the roof, there were steaks on 

the coal, 
And loaves in the cupboard, and ale in the bowl :— 
Will they never come back, like the blossoms of 

spring, 
The days that we knew when old Crispin was king ? 

IT. 

When Crispin was king, the good wife sat at home, 

And tended the babes to her bosom that clomb ; 

No grinders of poverty forced her away, 

To struggle with men for the food of the day ; 

Her lasses were modest and fresh as the rose, 

And her lads had stout arms for their friends and 

their foes ; 
And after their labour they frolick'd and sung, 
And came not to want, if they married too young : — 
Will they never come back, like the birds of the 

spring, 
The days that we knew when old Crisoin was king 1 



299 



BYGONES. 



Bygones ! Bygones ! cold and dark, 

Why should ye haunt the sunny beam 1 
Dim as ghosts in Charon's bark, 

Ye cloud the living stream. 
Love has wept its April tears ; 

Then why recall the parted rain ? 
And smiling Hope has banish' d fears ; 

Then wherefore bid them back again 1 
Last year's gales no longer strive 

To scatter leaves that bloom to-day ; 
Why should last year's griefs revive? 

Bygones ! Bygones ! pass away ! 



THE SHADOWS. 
I. 

Oh, the " shadows ! — the dark shadows !— 

How silently they fall ; 
They hang upon the landscape, 

They flit upon the wall ; 
And the joyous bells that rang to me, 
And the little birds that sang to me, 

Are silent one and all, 
In the shadows, the dark shadows, 

Creeping on the wall. 



300 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 

Oh, the shadows ! — the dark shadows ! — 

My good friend passes by, 
And the merry boon companions 

"Who'd rather sing than sigh, 
Forget the days they laugh'd with me, 
Forget the nights they quaff'd with me, 

And stare, with vacant eye, 
In the shadows, the dark shadows, 

Crawling on the sky ! 

in. 

Oh, the shadows ! — the dark shadows ! — 

They cover up the day ! 
And she who loved me truly 

Is dead and gone away ; 
As if harsh Fate had greed of her, 
And I not double need of her 

To light me as I stray 
Through the shadows, the dark shadows, 

Covering up the day. 






301 



NO MOKE CUPIDS. 



There rose a revolt in the kingdom of Song, — 

" No more," said the people, " we'll hear 
" Of Cupid and Venus, — we've borne them too long, 

"Their names from our hearts disappear. 
" The Love that we love has no wings ; 

" And the Goddess of Beauty we prize, 
" Is a fair English maid with an innocent heart, 

" And the light of her soul in her eyes. 

ii. 

"Let Cupid, and Venus, and Hymen be gone, 

"To sleep in Antiquity's page, 
" And let the nine Muses depart, every one, — 

" They suit not the taste of our age !" 
So Beauty and Love were enthroned; 

And people and bards, kneeling down, 
Decreed them supreme in the regions of Song, 

And gave them the sceptre and crown. 

in. 

And now if by Venus a bard would protest, 

We smile at the obsolete name, 
Or think that he only invokes it in jest, 

Or knows not Love's holier flame. 
And when lovers to Cupid appeal, 

Or talk of his conquering dart, 
Their love is but fancy, that dwells on the tongue,, 

But ne'er had a home in the heart. 



302 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



RETURNING MESSENGERS. 
[Air: Old English.] 

I. 

I was harsh and unforgiving, 

Cruel taunts escaped my tongue ; 

Every word, not dead, but living, 

Pierced the bosom whence it sprung- 
Poison'd arrow, backwards flung. 

ii. 

From my lips the words of blessing 
Issued, though I know not when ; 

Each, my happy soul possessing, 
Came, an angel, back again, 
Bearing blessings ten times ten. 



THE TAMBOURINE GIRL. 

[Music by Frank Mori.] 

I. 

I love my little native isle, 

Mine em'rald in a golden deep ; 
My garden where the roses smile, 

My vineyard where the tendrils creep. 
How sweetly glide the summer hours 

When twilight shows her silver sheen, 
And youths and maids from all the bowers 

Come forth to play the tambourine. 



THE TAMBOURINE GIRL. 303 

II. 

At morn the fisher spreads his sail 

Upon our calm encircling sea ; 
The farmer labours in the vale, 

Or tends his vine and orange-tree. 
But soon as lingering sunset throws 

O'er woods and fields a deeper green, 
And all the West in crimson glows, 

They gather to the tambourine. 

in. 

We love our merry native song, 

Our moss-grown seats in lonely nooks ; 
Our moonlight walks the beach along, 

For interchange of words and looks. 
When toil is done and day is spent, 

Sweet is the dance with song between, 
The jest for harmless pleasure meant, 

And tinkle of the tambourine. 

IV. 

My native isle, my land of peace,— 

My fathers home, my mother's grave, 
May evermore thy joys increase, 

And plenty o'er thy cornfields wave ! 
May storms ne'er vex thine ocean surf, 

Nor war pollute thy valleys green ; 
Nor fail the dance upon thy turf, 

Nor music of the tambourine ! 



304 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



LOVING IN VAIN. 



And wouldst thou from thy passionate heart 

Expel the light divine, 
Because another's heart disdains 

The glory born in thine 1 
Ah, no ! true Love repays itself, 

Whatever may befall ; 
And hearts that scorn to love in vain, 

Have never loved at all. 



II. 

The light of Heaven is heavenly light, 

Though on the mire it lie, 
And rains, though scatter'd on the sand, 

Were nurtured in the sky ! 
O'er thankless wilds and barren seas 

The stars and planets burn, 
And Love, if it be pure and true, 

Can love without return. 



305 



THE " YES " AND THE " NO." 
I. 

And wilt thou love roe all thy life 

As fervently as now? 
And never prove in joy or grief 

A traitor to thy vow ? 
Wilt never change, or prize me less, 

Whatever wind may blow ? 
I thank thee for thy "yes," my love, 

I thank thee for thy "no." 

ii. 

Wilt love me as unfolding flowers 

Might love the spring-time rain? 
And frozen streams the summer's breath, 

That bids them gush again ? 
And never think in future time 

The past has been thy foe ? 
I thank thee for thy "yes," my love, 

I thank thee for thy "no." 

in. 

Wilt come to-night, where oft thou'st come, 

Beneath the ancient thorn, 
And bring me something on thy lips, 

To seal the vow thou'st sworn ? 
Nor fail one minute at the tryste, 

Nor breathe it high or low? 
I thank thee for thy "yes," my love, 

I thank thee for thy "no." 
x 



306 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 

DKEAMING ! IDLY DEEAMING ! 
[Music by Charles Mackay.] 

I. 

Dreaming ! idly dreaming ! 

In the summer bowers, 
Came a whisper stilly, 
From the rose and lily 

And the meadow flowers : — 
" Though we bloom to woo you," 

Seem'd the voice to sigh, 
" Leave, oh, leave us growing, 
" Or, like wild-winds blowing, 

" Touch, and travel by ! 
" Beauty shrinks from selfish capture, 
" Love is short that lives on rapture ; 

(t If you gather us, we die !" 

II. 

Waking ! sadly waking ! 

In the moil and strife, 
Came a prompter quiet 
Through the wild- world riot, 

And the storm of life : — 
" Joys and Pleasures tempt us," 

Seem'd the voice to sigh, 
" But, unwisely taken, 
" From their branches shaken, 

"All their glories fly. 
" Bright and fair, with colours golden, 
" By our longing hearts beholden, — 

" When we gather them, they die !" 






307 



THE ABSOLUTE MONARCHY. 
I. 

My kingdom is wide as the wish of my soul, 

My crown is a garland of bay, 
My throne is a seat on the green grassy knoll, 

And my subjects the hours of the day. 
My high court of Justice and Truth 

I hold in my heart's inner cells ; 
And Conscience supreme is the judge who decides 

When Passion or Reason rebels. 

IT. 

For me all the beauties of Nature are spread, 

For me all the blossoms unfold, 
For me all the odours of Summer are shed, 

And harvests are ruddy as gold ! 
To feed me high treaties are made 

With realms o'er the wide ocean foam, 
And a thousand gay ships seek the ends of the earth, 

To bring me my luxuries home. 

hi. 

There never was monarch since empire began 

More free and contented than I ; 
That fear not the arm or the treason of man, 

Or Anarchy's rallying cry. 
This stanch little kingdom's myself; 

To my absolute rule it is given — 
By a charter divine is the privilege mine, 

And I'll answer the trust but to Heaven. 
x2 



308 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



GOOD COMPANY. 



When I sit by myself at the close of the day, 
And watch the blue twilight turn amber and gray, — 
With fancies as twinkling and vague as the stars, 
And as distant as they from this life's petty jars, — 
I know not, I think not, where fortune may be, 
But I feel I'm in very good company. 

II. 

When I sit with a friend at the glow of my hearth, 
To fight some great battle of wisdom or mirth, 
And strike from our armour the sparkles of wit 
That follow the shafts of our thought when they hit, — 
I ask not, I care not, where pleasure may be, 
But I know I'm in excellent company. 

in. 

When I sit with my darling, who loves me so well, 
And read in her eyes what no language can tell, 
Or trace on her lips — free as cherubs from guile— 
The meanings and mysteries hid in a smile, — 
I heed not, I dream not, where Eden may be, 
But I feel I'm in heavenly company. 






309 



UNDECEIVED. 

L 

I once believed that in a form so beautiful as tliine — 
In such clear face and angel eyes, so like to lamps 

divine, 
And in that breast so purely white, deception could 

not dwelL, 
Or base unworthy passions prompt thy reason to 

rebel ; 
I spoke my thoughts, and calFd on men to listen and 

believe me : 

But in thine eyes Deception hung, 
And there was guile upon thy tongue. 
Once, only once, thy soul was true — when thou didst 

undeceive me. 

II. 

He who in wild-wood alleys roams, unthinking and 

unwise, 
And takes a serpent to his heart for beauty of its 

eyes, 
For splendour of its arching neck and glitter of its 

skin, 
Was scarcely such a dupe as I, in ignorance of sin, 
Who took such traitor to my side to fondle and to 

cherish, 

And gave it sustenance and room. 
But go ! thy falsehood is thy doom ! 
And not the heart which thou hast stung — but thou, 

thyself, shalt perish ! 



310 SOXGS FOIl MUSIC. 



NEVER AGAIN". 



Will I love thee ? Ah yes ! but the love which I 

knew, 
Ere Falsehood had clouded thy Truth's sunny blue, 
A flower in the desert — a joy in my pain, 
Will cheer my sad spirit, oh, never again ! 

ii. 

The rose has been gather'd, the tune has been sung, 
And roses have perish'd and harps are unstrung ; 
And I'll feast on the odour and hear the sweet strain. 
To cheer me in sadness, oh, never again 1 



in. 

I will cling to thy fortunes and cherish thee still, 
And stay by thy side through all sorrow and ill ; 
But Youth's early passion one falsehood has slain ? 
And Time can revive it, oh, never again ! 



311 



THE PEIMROSE. 

[The common field primrose, that grows in such beautiful luxuriance in 
the meadows and green lanes in the British Isles, is unknown in America 
and Australia — or only cultivated in conservatories or hot-houses. Two 
years ago, it was reported in a Melbourne newspaper, that an English 
primrose had been imported in a wardian case, and would be brought on 
shore from a ship in the harbour, to be exhibited in the city. The an- 
nouncement excited a great sensation, Upwards of three thousand people 
turned out into the streets to see the flower brought ashore, and the 
pressure of the crowd was so great that it was found necessary to call 
out the police to preserve order, and to make a line through which the 
Primrose might be escorted on shore, to be seen of all her admirers.] 



She comes ! — make way, ye people ! 

Stand reverently aside ; 
She comes ! — the gentle traveller, 

In purity and pride ; 
Shower welcomes fair upon her, 
To show befitting honour ; 
And give her love and homage 

From hearts and kindling eyes ; 
And believe her, and receive her 

With a thousand sympathies. 

II. 

She has cross'd the stormy ocean, 

A pilgrim, to our shore ; 
As fresh as Youth and Beauty, 

And dear as days of yore. 
Stand back ! for she is tender, 
And delicate, and slender; 
And a rude, too boisterous greeting, 

Well meant although it be, 
Might endanger our sweet stranger, 

From the land beyond the sea. 



312 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 

Oh ! the love that she awakens, 

And the smiles twin-born with tears, 
That her pleasant face np-summons 

From the depths of other years ! 
When we were blithe and youthful, 
And fresh of heart and truthful, 
And roam'd by rimpling rivers, 

And woodland pastures wild, 
To meet her, and to greet her, 

In the valleys where she smiled. 

IV. 

How often, in life's morning, 

When none but she was nigh, 
And the blithe free lark above us, 

Sprinkling music from the sky, 
Beside the stile we've waited, 
Until evening hours belated, 
To breathe the youthful passion, 

That was bold as well as coy, 
To some maiden, love-beladen, 

Full of innocence and joy. 



v. 

How often, in life's noontime, 

When our boys and girls were young, 
We have taken them to meadows, 

Where the early blossoms sprung, 
In that well-beloved far-land ; 
And wove them many a garland 



HUMPHREY DUNN. 313 

Of buttercups and daisies, 

And primrose blushing fair, 
And entwined them, and enshrined them, 

'Mid the clusters of their hair ! 

VI. 

Stand back, ye joyous people ! — 

Ye shall see her, every one ; 
Ye shall see her, but not touch her — 

Where we place her in the sun ! 
She shall smile on you serenely, 
And fairy-like and queenly ; 
And pour upon your spirits, 

Like the dew from Heavens own dome, 
The feelings and revealings, 

And memories of home ! 



HUMPHREY DUNN. 

£st tntr gans etns— 

(Do tci) 0clU fiat), otter licins. 



If he have money, or if he have none, 
'Tis all the same to Humphrey Dunn. 

H. 

If he have money, his heart is glad ; 
If none, 'tis cowardly to be sad. 



314 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



III. 



If he have money, his wife goes fine ; 
If none, her eyes never cease to shine. 



IV. 



If he have money, he drinks good beer ; 
If none, he relishes water clear. 



If he have money, his feasts are spread ; 
If none, he can dine on a crust of bread. 

VI. 

If he have money, he goes to the play; 
If none, he laughs and stops away. 

VII. 

If he have money, 'tis Paris and Rome ; 
If none, he walks in the streets at home. 

VIII. 

If he have money, his creditors smile ; 
If none, they frown and wait awhile. 



IX. 



If he have money, his jewels glow ; 
If he have none, the daisies grow. 



For whether he've money, or whether he've none, 
'Tis all the same to Humphrey Dunn ! 






315 

A VISION. 
I. 

Dawn without cloud, thou happy Day ! 
Earth's fairest creature comes this way ; 
And yet, O Sun, thou need'st not shine,- 
Her beauty's light surpasses thine. 

ii. 

Be silent harpsichord and lute ; 
She sings, and Music should be mute, 
And take a lesson from her voice, 
How best to soothe us or rejoice. 

in. 

Sweet-scented Lily, sweeter Rose, 
Let all your blushing petals close : 
What boots your odours to expand, 
"When she comes breathing in the land? 

IV. 

Delay, Time, when she is near, 
Change every minute to a year ; 
And when she's gone, let seasons pass 
Fleeter than moments in thy glass. 

V. 

Delay ! nor do my heart a wrong ; 
Go rob the sad, who deem thee long, 
And give me, while my love is by, 
The produce of the larceny. 



316 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



VI. 

Take from the wasteful of thy joy 
The days and hours that they destroy, 
And pile them as my passion bids, 
Like stones of steadfast pyramids. 

VII. 

But when she goes — O wayward Time ! 
To linger is capricious crime ; 
So spur the steed, and slack the rein, 
And gallop till she comes again. 



JOHN GOODENOUGH. 
I. 

I never saw John Goodenough, 

And know not where he dwells, 
Whether it be on the mountain-top, 

Or in the sunny dells ; 
Whether it be in the city streets, 

'Mid the crowds that come and go, 
Or in the meads and woodlands green, 

Where the murmuring waters flow ; 
Whether it be by the bare sea-beach, 

Where croons the tempest wild, 
I never met John Goodenough 

Since I was a happy child. 



JOHN GOODENOUGH. 317 

II. 

I've heard of hiin and read of him, 

And fancied him night and day, 
With his soft blue eyes and placid smile, 

And his long locks silvery gray ; 
With his words of goodness for the rich 

And kindness for the poor, 
And his brave true heart, that, come what will, 

Is patient to endure ; 
But I never met him — never once — 

Whether I wept or smiled, 
Or thought him other than a dream, 

Since I was a little child. 

in. 

I've ceased long, long ago, to hope 

I shall see his face again, 
Or feel the grasp of his honest hand 

In my pleasure or my pain ; 
Or hear the sound of his manly voice 

Breathing his morning prayer, 
Or blessing the children at his knee, 

With his hands on their golden hair. 
John Good, I know, and sometimes meet ; 

But Goodenough, wise and mild, 
Remains a vision of the days 

When I was a thoughtless child. 



318 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



COMBING HER COAL-BLACK HAIR. 
I. 

She sits o'er the keystone of the bridge 

In the sunshine and the rain, 
And there flashes a light from her deep dark eyes 

That tells of a passionate pain. 
All the day and half the night, 

Alone with her despair, 
She sits and sings, and talks to herself 

Combing her coal-black hair. 

II. 

Take heed, if you pass her on the way, 

False wife, or fickle maid, 
Or man who hast wrong'd a trusting heart, 

Or broken it and betray' d ! 
Of the curl of her lip, of the glance of her eye, 

Of the word of her mouth beware ! 
For she means you mischief where she sits 

Combing her coal-black hair. 



in. 

'Tis Misery gives her power to curse ! 

Pass on, ye good and true : 
Her evil eye shall harm you not, 

Her curse is not for you. 
But ye who've broken Love's dear faith, 

Take warning, and beware 
Of the witch-like woman who haunts the bridge 

Combing her coal-black hair. 






319 



WERT THOU MINE. 



Wert thou mine — wert thou mine, 
I would live in summer- shine ; 
I would carol like the lark, 
When he soars above the dark ; 
T would heed nor grief nor care, 
But be good, as thou art fair ; 
All my happiness should be 
But a duty paid to thee ! 

thou lovely, thou benign, 
Wert thou mine — wert thou mine ! 

ii. 

Wert thou mine — wert thou mine, 
In that little heart of thine 

1 would dwell for evermore, 
Snugly nestled at the core ; 
And would fill it, day and night, 
With all beauty, all delight, 

Till the glory of thy face 
Should make Eden in my place. 
O thou lovely, thou benign, 
Wert thou mine — wert thou mine ! 



320 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE FEKRY. 



Passing o'er the Ferry, 

I lost a purse of gold ; 
It vanish' d in the stream, 
Like a fancy in a dream. 

Let it go ! its loss is told ; 
And I'll sib me down and try, 
"While there's sunshine in the sky, 
If I cannot win another 

Ere to-morrow's light be old. 

ii. 

Passing o'er the Ferry, 

I lost a ruby ring ; 
It was given me by a friend 
Whom 111 love till life shall end. 

Let it go ! like bird on wing j 
For my friend will still love on, 
Though the gift he gave be gone — 
As the sunshine loves the meadows, 

Though they lose the flowers of Spring 



in. 



Passing o'er the Ferry, 

I lost my heart, ah me ! 
To a pair of laughing eyes, 
To a face like summer skie& 



A COURTSHIP. 321 

It has gone, that heart so free. 
And great will be my pain 
Till I get it back again, 
Or the love of her who stole it. 

Woe is me ! oh, woe is me ! 



A COURTSHIP, 



" A penny for thy thoughts," she said. — 

" I think that thou art fair, 
" That pleasantness about thee dwells 

" Like sunshine in the air, 
" And that within thine eyes there lurks 

" More light than day can spare ! " 
" Well ! take thy penny if thou wilt ! 

" Thou st robb'd me, I declare ! " 

II. 

" But that is only half my thought : 

" I think, if thou wert free 
" To take this heart — this truth — this life- 

" This hand, that's offer'd thee, 
u I'd be the happiest man on earth." — 

" Be happy then !" quoth she ; 
" And when I pay thee for that thought, 

" Myself shall be the fee ! " 

Y 



322 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE INQUIRY. 
I. 

Tell me, ye winged winds, 

That round my pathway roar, 
Do ye not know some spot 

Where mortals weep no more 1 
Some lone and pleasant dell, 

Some valley in the west, 
Where, free from toil and pain, 

The weary soul may rest 1 
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
And sigh'd for pity as it answer'd, " No ! " 

il 

Tell me, thou mighty deep, 

Whose billows round me play, 
Know'st thou some favour'd spot, 

Some island far away, 
Where weary man may find 

The bliss for which he sighs? 
Where Sorrow never lives, 

And Friendship never dies ? 
The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, 
Stopp'd for a while, and sigh'd to answer, " No ! " 

in. 

And thou, serenest moon, 

That, with such holy face, 
Dost look upon the earth 

Asleep in night's embrace, 






THE INQUIRY. 323 

Tell me, in all thy round 

Hast thou not seen some spot, 
Where miserable man 

Might find a happier lot 1 
Behind a cloud, the moon withdrew in woe, 
And a voice sweet, but sad, responded, " No I" 

IV. 

Tell me, my secret soul, 

Oh ! tell me, Hope and Faith, 
Is there no resting-place 

From sorrow, sin, and death ? 
Is there no happy spot 

Where mortals may be bless'd — 
Where grief may find a balm, 

And weariness a rest ? 
Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, 
Waved their bright wings, and whisper'd, " Yes ! in 
Heaven ! " 



— *z£g&dg£>g?~— 



y2 



324 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



THE KISSING-GATE. 

[In some of the rural villages of England, to catch a young woman in 
the stile, or gate, leading to the churchyard, confers the same privilege as 
the mistletoe at Christmas.] 

I. 

Should I ask you to come to the valley to-night, 
And shame the fair Moon by a lovelier light, 
With a smile on your lips, on your bosom a rose ; 
Your bright eyes might answer, " I will, Love ! " 

Who knows 1 

IL 

Should I ask you next Sunday, when service is o'er, 
To stop in the gate half a minute — no more ; 
To give me the sweet little chance it bestows, 
Your blushes might answer : " I will, Love." 

Who knows ? 

in. 

Should I tell you I've purchased the plain golden ring, 
And ask you to name some bright morn of the spring, 
When on your third finger that ring might repose, 
Your ripe lips might answer : " To-morrow." 

Who knows 1 



325 



A MISPLACED AFFECTION. 



Quoth " I " to « Me :" " I love but thee, 

" And this affection strong, 
" Whoever flouts, or scorns, or doubts, 

" Shall last my whole life long. 
" With thee I'll laugh, with thee I'll quaff— 

" To thee I'll pass the wine ; 
" And share no grief that seeks relief, 

" Except, dear ' Me,' 'tis thine ! 
" Thy hopes and fears, thy smiles and tears, 

" Shall ever be mine own ; — 
" My best good friend, till life shall end ! 

" I'll cling to thee alone." 

II. 

But Love so true — as Love will do — 

Went piteously awry, 
And sorrows keen and bickerings mean 

Fell out 'twixt " Me " and tf I." 
It came to pass that " Me " — alas ! 

Lay sick on bed of pain, 
And none came near to soothe or cheer, 

But " I," who came in vain. 
And " I " could see no hope for " Me," 

For scorning Nature's law ; — 
And so they sigh'd, and pined and died — 

And nobody cared a straw ! 



326 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

FORTUNE. 

[Air: The Keel Row.] 



Fortune came to my door 

My door — my door ! 
Fortune came to my door, 
And bade me let her in. 
" But say," quoth I, " who these may be, 
" Who follow in the wake with thee, 
" And turn their guilty eyes on me, 
" Before I let thee in." 

ii. 

" 'Tis Cheating come to thy door, 

" Thy door — thy door ! 
" 'Tis Lying come to thy door, 
" So rise and let us in." 
Quoth I : " My Conscience lives at ease, 
" And wants no comrades such as these ; 
" So pass, dame Fortune, if you please, — 
" I cannot let you in. 

in. 

" But if you'll come to my door, 

u My door — my door, 
" And knock alone at my door, 
" Perhaps I'll let you in. 
" Or, if you'll come with honest hand, 
" With Truth that all men understand, 
" And Virtue spotless in the land ; — 
" Oh, then, I'll let you in ! " 



327 



THE SWEETHEART. 



And so tliey smiled a scornful smile, 

Because, in naming thee, 
I used the people's simple word, 

That speaks affection free. 
Well ! let them smile — devoid of heart — 

And to the sweet unknown ; 
And I will call thee, as before, 

My sweetheart, and mine own. 

II. 

My heart of hearts — my sweet of sweets — 

I love the words to twine, 
That breathe such truths 'twixt thee and me, 

And sympathies divine ! 
Wert thou a queen and I a king, — 

To raise thee to my throne, 
I'd woo thee with no other words — 

My sweetheart, and mine own. 



328 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



HEE WAYS. 



When there is something to be said, 

In pleasure or in pain, 
To brighten joy, like sunlight shed, 

Or dry affliction's rain ; 
When she'd console, rebuke, control, 

With yes, or no, as clear — 
She's such a way of saying it, 

'Tis pleasantness to hear. 

II. 

And when there's something to be done, 

At need's or duty's call — 
A courtesy, a charity, 

A kindness, great or small, 
A daily grief that needs relief — 

Whate'er the action be, 
She's such a way of doing it, 

She wins all hearts to see. 

in. 

But saying, doing, night or day, 

'Tis difficult to tell 
The sweetest grace of mind or face 

That marks her to excel ! 
She seldom breathes the love I crave, 

But from her eyes divine 
She's such a way of looking it, 

I know that she is mine ! 



329 



MY DOG. 



My dog looked wistful in my face, 

Said I : " My friends are gone ; 
" They left me when my money went — 

" They left me every one. 
" But nought care I ; I've health and strength, 

" And hope that shall not fail ; 
And thou, true friend, that ne'er deceived." — 

And Towler waggd Ms tail. 

II. 

My dog was glad when I came home, 

Said I : * There's pleasure here, 
" My flute to play, my book to read, 

" My wife and children dear ; 
" What need I care how kingdoms fare, 

" Who's hammer, or who's nail ; 
u Who's out or in — who lose or win 1 " — 

And Towler wagg'd his tail. 

in. 

My dog ran frisking at my side; 

Said I : " Let bigots fight, 
" And lose themselves in mazes dim 

" Of wrong confused with right ; 
" What call have I to prove my faith, 

" Or other men's assail ? — 
" Or hunt a ray that leads astray ? " 

And Towler waggd Ms tail. 



330 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

IV. 

My dog lay snoozing by the fire ; 

Said I : " My realm is fed, 
" And this right hand, that oweth none, 

" Hath earn'd my children's bread ; 
" What need have I to weep or sigh 

" For Luxury and its trail ? — 
" For Pomp that palls— for Power that falls ? " 

And Towler wagg'd his tail. 

V. 

• 

My dog came coaxing to my knees, 

Quoth he to me : " Bow-wow ! " 
Quoth I : " My thoughts are always thine, 

" There's wisdom on thy brow ; 
" Thou tak'st advice, but givest none ! 

" True friend ! thy worth I hail ! "— 
And Towler jump'd into my lap, 

And waggd his honest tail. 



THE OLD MAN TO THE SWALLOW. 

I. 

Why dost thou linger, Swallow 1 
Why dost thou linger here? 
For the summer, it is gone, 
And the frosts are coming on, 
And the gray and hoary locks of the year. 



THE OLD MAN TO THE SWALLOW. 331 

II. 

Thou art wrong to flit about me ; 
All the butterflies are dead, 

And the blue and yellow flowers 
Bloom no longer in the bowers, 
And the leaves fall brown and sere where I tread. 

in. 

Get thee gone to warmer regions ! 
Here, no more, hath music birth ; 
Not a cheep in all the sky — 
Not an echo floating by 
Of the melody and harmony of earth. 

IV. 

Get thee gone, thou foolish Swallow ! 
Get thee gone ! the days are cold, 
And the nights are dark and long, 
And the wind is bitter strong, 
And my heart, like the year, is growing old. 



■ ^^^3^ ' 



332 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



MISEKKIMUS. 
I. 



There's nothing I prize beneath the sky, 

Or great, or small. 
And were I happy, I could die, 

And go to the bourne where goeth all. 



ii. 



I once prized wealth, but it brought me grief- 

Ah me, forlorn ! 
And I fancied every man a thief, 

And cursed the hour that I was born. 



in. 



I once prized a woman, and loved her well— 

Ah, weary day ! 
But great was the misery that befell, 

And crown'd my hair with silvery gray. 



IV. 



I once prized the love of a little child — 

Unhappy me ! 
It grew to a man, and drove me wild 

With ingratitude and treachery. 



I once prized a friend, and thought him true ; 

But hard my fate ! 
There was no wrong he would not do, 

And he made my fireside desolate. 




A LOVE CUBSE 



A LOVE-CURSE. 333 



VI. 



I once prized Fame, and follow'd its light- 

O dupe ! to care 
For such a false and wayward sprite, 

Born of the foulness of the air ! 

VII. 

There's nothing I prize or value more ; 

Nothing at all ! 
Nothing behind me, nothing before ! 

Nothing at all ! Oh, nothing at all ! 



A LOVE-CUKSE. 
I. 

Fare thee ill — and not well ! And whenever, hereafter, 
The world in my presence shall speak of a knave, 

And utter his name, amid curses or laughter, 
As greatest or meanest — half tyrant, half slave ; 

I will tell them of thee, till they're forced to confess 

That none can be greater, as none can be less. 

II. 

With the tale of thy deeds shall the pure air be tainted; 

And lips that have named thee, need balsams to free ; 
And villains more monstrous than thought ever painted 

Shall seem but as pigmies when measured with thee. 
Fare thee ill — and not well ! And till life shall depart, 
May Misery track thee wherever thou art ! 



334 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

THE SHIP. 
I. 

A King, a Pope, and a Kaiser, 

And a Queen — most fair was she — 
Went sailing, sailing, sailing, 

Over a sunny sea. 
And amid them sat a beggar, — 

A churl of low degree ; 
And they all went sailing, sailing, 

Over the sunny sea. 

ii. 

And the King said to the Kaiser, 

And his comrades fair and free, 
" Let us turn adrift this beggar, 

" This churl of low degree ; 
Ci For he taints the balmy odours 

" That blow to you and me, 
" As we travel, — sailing, sailing, 

" Over the sunny sea." 

in. 

ft The ship is mine," said the beggar, — 

That churl of low degree ; — 
" And we're all of us sailing, sailing, 

" To the grave, o'er the sunny sea. 
" And you may not, and you cannot, 

" Get rid of mine, or me ; 
" No ! not for your crowns and sceptres — 

" And my name is Death ! " quoth he. 



335 

HIGHLAND MAIDENS. 
I. 

Oh, bonnie are the heather-bells 

Upon the mountains growing ; 
Oh, bonnie are the bluebells bright 

That peep where streams are flowiDg ; 
And bonnie are the harebell cups 

That wave on moorlands fenny, 
But the human blossoms of the North 

Are bonnier than any. 

II. 

Ye prosperous Fates look kindly down 

Upon each Highland maiden ; 
Still may their hearts with virtue glow, 

Their lips with smiles be laden. 
May innocence and peace of mind 

Forsake their pathway never, 
And all the joys of happy love 

Encircle them for ever. 

in. 

So let them grow, the Highland flowers, 

As lovely as the morning ; 
Fair as the heather on the hills, 

A rugged soil adorning ; 
So, like the bluebell of the wood, 

And harebell of the meadow, 
Gleam on the country of their birth 

In sunshine or in shadow ! 



336 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



IV. 



In sunshine or in shadow still, 

By northern loch or mountain, 
As fair as prouder flowers that grow 

By southern grove or fountain. 
Fair and not proud, with virtue crown'd, 

Sweet-scented in the by-lands, 
Still may they bloom, the bonnie flowers, 

The maidens of the Highlands ! 



THE TWO BOOKS. 



A lover and his lass 
Lay reading on the grass 
A book of olden story, 
Of love, and grief, and glory. 
The maiden's eyes were bright 
With pity and delight, 
And stray'd not from the book, 
E'en for a casual look 
At him her life's dear lord — 
Beside her on the sward ; 
Bat read, with lips apart, 
The too entrancing tale that thrill'd through all her 
heart. 



337 



n. 



The lover's eyes, twin thieves, 
Stole glances from the leaves — 
Now to those milk-white shoulders, 
The charm of all beholders ; 
Now to those sunny eyes, 
Blue -bright as Paradise ; 
Now to her streaming curls, 
Or ruby-cover d pearls, 
Whence issued sweeter breath 
Than south wind scattereth } 
Then to her dainty hand, 
Or little fairy feet, star-twinklers in the land. 

in. 

" Ah well-a-day !" quoth he, 
" Thy book 's no book for me. 
" The page I read is rarer, 
" And tenderer, and fairer ; 
" For thine contains, at best, 
" Life-shadows — love's unrest ; 
" But mine contains all truth, 
u All beauty and all youth, 
" All feelings fond and coy, 
" And deep and passionate joy. 
" Be books upon the shelf ! 
" My stories are thine eyes ; my poem is Thyself ! ' 



338 SONGS FOlt MUSIC. 



THE DAISIES. 



My heart is full of joy to-day, 

The air hath music in it ; 
Once more I roam the wild-wood way, 

And prize the passing minute ; 
The balms of heaven are on my cheek, 

My feet in meadow mazes. 
Let me alone, and I will speak 

My blessings on the daisies. 

ii. 

I have not seen for half a year, 

Sore pent in cares and labours, 
These gems of earth, these blossoms dear, 

These free and gladsome neighbours ; 
They smile upon me as of old, 

Through Memory's shifting phases. 
My blessings on your white and gold, 

Ye well-beloved daisies ! 

hi. 

I love ye for yourselves alone, 

Ye bright perennial comers; 
Ye ease my brow of winters known, 

And crown my locks with summers. 
Ye give me back the thoughts of youth, 

Its feelings and its phrases, 
Its careless joys, its simple truth. 

My blessings on the daisies ! 



I 



BACK AGAIX. 339 



IV. 



If only once each hundred sjirings 

Ye bloom'd the long grass under, 
The crowd, with all its priests and kings, 

Would throng to see and wonder : 
Religion's self would kneel and pray, 

And hymn your Maker's praises ; 
But you, ye blossom every day ! 

My blessings on the daisies ! 



BACK AGAIN. 

[In the United States and Canada there are neither primroses nor 
daisies ; larks nor nightingales.] 

I. 

Back again to the land where the primroses blow, 
And the thrush and the nightingale build in the 
thorn ; 
Where the hedges are white with the blossoming 
sloe, 
And the lark in mid air sings his hymn to the 
morn ! 
Back again to the land where the daisies of Earth 

In beauty compete with the stars of the Sky ; 
Back again ! Back again to the land of our birth, 
For whose glory we'd live ! for whose safety 
we'd die ! 

z2 



340 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



II. 



Back again to the land where the women are kinc 

And glitter in beauty like roses in dew ; 
"Where the men have stout arms, as their enemies 
find, 

And hearts that are soft as their actions are 
true. 

Back again to the cliffs that no foeman shall climb 
To the land of the honest, the brave, and the 
free ; 
Whose story 's a light in the darkness of Time- 
Back again ! Back again ! dearest England, tc 
thee! 

Boston, Massachusetts, May 18th, 1858. 



THE ENGLISHMAN. 



I've sail'd the seas from East to West, 

From North to South, the wide world through 
I've seen mankind both worst and best, 

And loved them, whatsoe'er their hue. 
But never found, on any ground, 

Where sunlight fell or rivers ran, 
Where blossoms grew or wild winds blew, 

The equal of the Englishman. 



THE ENGLISHMAN. 341 

The Englishman, the Englishman ! 

The upright, downright Englishman ! 
His word is sure, his heart is pure — 

The ready, steady Englishman ! 

ii. 

In work he labours with a will ; 

In play he's playful as a child ; 
And when its wild wind whistles shrill, 

He braves Misfortune undenled. 
On all that's just he builds his trust : 

On all that's base he hurls his ban. 
And, ladies bright, his heart is right; 

He loves you well, the Englishman. 
The Englishman, the Englishman ! 

The upright, downright Englishman ! 
In friendship clear, in love sincere — 

The ready, steady Englishman ! 

in. 

He bears himself like heart of oak — 

Of courage high, of purpose strong ; 
And when he fights, beware his stroke, 

Ye props and agents of the wrong. 
On fallen foes he aims no blows, 

But strives to lift them if he can ; 
And scorns to wreak upon the weak 

The vengeance of the Englishman. 
The Englishman, the Englishman ! 

The upright, downright Englishman ! 
In love or hate he's always great — 

The ready, steady Englishman ! 



342 SOXGS FOE MUSIC. 



IV. 

Oppression dreads his lifted hand ; 

The slave draws courage from his eye ; 
And Freedom, timorous in the land, 

Shouts at his voice her rallying cry. 
O'er all the girth of mother earth 

You find his mark, you trace his plan ; 
And some may fear, and some revere, 

But none despise the Englishman ! 
The Englishman, the Englishman, 

The upright, downright Englishman ! 
He scorns a lie, for truth he'd die — 

The ready, steady Englishman ! 









ROLLING HOME. 

On board the Europa, homeward bound, May 26th, 1858. 

I. 

Up aloft amid the rigging sings the fresh exulting gale, 
Strong as spring-time in the blossoms filling out each 

blooming sail ; 
And the wild waves, cleft behind us, seem to murmur 

as they flow : 
" There are kindly hearts that wait you in the land to 

which ye go." 
Rolling home, rolling home, rolling home, dear land, 

to thee I 
Rolling home to merry England, rolling home across 

the sea ! 



ROLLING HOME. 343 



II. 



Twice a thousand miles behind us, and a thousand miles 
before, 

Ancient Ocean heaves to bear us to the well-remem- 
ber' d shore ; 

New-born breezes swell to waft us to our childhood's 
balmy skies, 

To the glow of friendly faces, to the light of loving 
eyes. 

Rolling home, rolling home, rolling home, dear land, to 
thee ! 

Rolling home to merry England, rolling home across 
the sea! 

in. 

Every motion of the vessel, every dip of mast or spar, 
Is a dance and a rejoicing, and a promise from afar ; 
And we love the light above us, as it tips the waves 

around, 
All the more because, ere coming, it has beain'd on 

English ground. 
Rolling home, rolling home, rolling home, dear land, 

to thee ! 
Rolling home to merry England, rolling home across 

the sea! 

IV. 

And 'tis nearer, ever nearer, to the rising of the morn, 
And 'tis eastward, ever eastward, to the land where 
we were born. 



344 SONGS FOR MUSIC, 

And well sing in joyous chorus through the watches 

of the night : 
We shall see the shores of England at the dawning of 

the light. 
Rolling home, rolling home, rolling home, dear land, 

to thee ! 
Kolling home to merry England, — rolling home across 

the sea ! 

v. 

Rolling home to little England — though so little, yet 

so great — 
With her face of sunny beauty, and her heart as strong 

as fate, 
With her men of honest nature, with her women good 

and fair, 
With her courage and her virtue that can do as well 

as bear. 
Rolling home, rolling home, rolling home, dear land, to 

thee ! 
Rolling home to merry England, — rolling home across 

the sea ! 



~c*x5xe>>o~ 



345 

THE CUP OF OBLIVION. 

I. 

High to my lips I held Oblivion's cup : 

" Drink," said Despair, " this liquor, creaming up, 

" And so forget all pain that Fate has cast — 

" All grief, all pleasure .of the dreadful past." 

I raised the cup ; I peer'd into its deeps, 

And whisper'd to myself : " Here Sorrow sleeps, 

" Never to waken ; never, never more 

u To plague me with the memories of yore." 

ii. 

" What 1 " said a little voice, remember'd well, 

That on my spirit, rich as sunlight, fell ; 

" Wouldst thou forget me, father 1 Ah, not so ! " 

I look'd into the cup, and, far below, 

Saw that angelic face and golden hair. 

* Never, oh never, even in despair — 

" However frantic, reasonless, and wild, 

" Will I forget thee, O thou heavenly child ! " 

in. 
And then another and most winning voice, 
That oft before had bid my heart rejoice, 
Came sparkling from the bottom of the bowl, 
And shot electric throbbings through my soul ; 
And the dark eyes — God's windows fro in God's heaven — 
Blazed love upon me : " Be thy thought forgiven ; 
" But wilt thou, canst thou do thy heart such wrong, 
"As to forget me and my love, death-strong?" 



346 



SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



IV. 



I turn'd away my lips, threw down the cup, 

With its dark liquor, creaming ever up : 

" I will not taste it ! Let my sorrow live, 

" Link'd with the joy that Heaven vouchsafes to give ! 

" I will not lose the mem'ry of these twain, 

" For all Oblivion's wealth ! Let Grief remain ! 

" And I will hallow all the forms it takes, 

" And love dear Memory for their dearer sakes." 



IF I DIE FIRST. 



If I die first, dear love, 

My mournful soul, made free, 
Shall sit at heaven's high portal, 

To wait and watch for thee — 
To wait and watch for thee, love, 

And through the deep, dark space 
To peer, with human longings, 

For thy radiant face. 



II. 



'Mid all the stars of heaven, 

One only shall I see, 
The Earth, star of my passion, 

Half Heaven for holding thee- 



IF I DIE FIRST. 347 

All Heaven for holding thee, love, 

And brightest of the spheres, 
By thy smile illumined, 

Or hallow'd by thy tears. 

in. 

If I die first, dear love. — 

I feel that this shall be, 
For Heaven will not be Heaven 

Until it's shared with thee, — 
Until it's shared with thee, love 

I'll linger at the gate, 
Or be thy guardian angel, 

To teach thee how to wait. 

IV. 

And when thine hour shall come, 

And through the yielding night 
I see thy happy spirit 

Upsoaring, robed in light, 
Mine shall go forth to meet thee, 

And, through th' eternal door, 
Pass in with thee, rejoicing, 

Made one for evermore. 



348 SONGS FOR 3IUSIC. 



PITY! 



How lovely, both in form and mind, 

Three years ago I thought thee, 
When grace, with purity combined, 

To mould angelic wrought thee, — 
A rose in June ; a perfect tune ; 

A morning sky, unclouded. 
But now, alas ! the charm is lost, 

And all the light enshrouded. 



II. 

The smiling sea hath wreck'd a heart 

That sail'd its bright skies under ; 
The sky itself had lightning's dart, 

Without its warning thunder. 
The beauty's gone, the glory's flown, — 

They live with falsehood never. 
Deceiver, though I cannot hate, 

I pity thee for ever ! 



349 



THAT IS THE WAY. 

I. 

To leave your business all day long, 
To pass your time in jest and song, 
To haunt casinos, taverns, plays, 
Or in your bed to spend your days ; 
To look for bread to dead men's wills, 
To ask a Jew to cash your bills, 
Or trust the word of all you meet, — 
That is the way to Portugal Street. 

ii. 

To overtax your weary brain ; 

To drink deep draughts and fill again ; 

To go to law and think it sport 

To hunt your cause from court to court ; 

To muse too fiercely on a wrong, 

To look at darkness all day long ; 

To grieve and pine, to scorn and hate, — 

That is the way to Bedlam-gate. 

hi. 

To give a woman all her will, 
Rebellious but submissive still; 
To love your quiet more than right, 
And rather be oppress' d than fight ; 
To fear short-commons, not the Bench ; 
To borrow when you should retrench ; 
From duns to hide, from writs to flee, — 
That is the way to slavery. 



350 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



IV. 



To yield to pleasures like a rage, 

And spend in youth the strength of age ; 

To think, with silver on your hair, 

That you are young, as once you were ; 

To feed your fever, scorn your cold ; 

To marry when you're crazy old, 

Or trust to quacks your health to save, — 

That is the way, the way to the grave. 



To love your art, and at its call 

To yield your health, your wealth, your all, 

And live on humble bread and cheese ; 

To love it more than fame or ease ; 

To heed no scorn of rival schools, 

And laugh at critics when they're fools ; 

To please the wise, and not the town, — 

That is the way to high renown. 

VI. 

To keep life's balance true and fair, 
To breathe contentment like the air ; 
To live but as your purse allows, 
To love your children and your spouse ; 
To take delight in Nature's plan, 
Adoring God, nor fearing man, 
Avoiding anger, pride, excess, — 
That is the way to happiness. 



351 



A COKONACH. 

I. 

Wail ! Wail ! 
For a sun hath set, 
Which no returning morrow 
Shall ever call 
From the darksome pall, 
To beam upon our sorrow ! 
Moan ! Moan ! 
O'er his dwelling lone, 
As ye heap the clod above him : 
Dead ! Dead ! 
His soul hath fled 
From the hearts that lived to love him ! 

II. 

Wail ! Wail ! 
Though our tears be vain, 
For the soul in glory shining { 
Yet how can those 
Who have seen his close 
Forbear for awhile repining ? 
Moan! Moan! 
O'er the narrow stone ; 
Body and soul must sever ! 
Dead ! Dead ! 
His spirit hath fled, 
And a star hath set for ever ! 



352 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



BLACKBERRIES. 



Black as Beauty's tresses, 

Sweet as Love's caresses, 
Darlings of the people, beloved of high and low, 

Dear to age and childhood, 

Gleaming in the wild wood, 
Peeping to the sunshine in every green hedgerow, 

Berries of the bramble, 

How I love to ramble 
Through the shady valleys, and pluck you as I go ! 

II. 

Your luxuriant treasure, 

Stintless, out of measure, 
Fills me with such feeling of recklessness and joy ; 

"With such sense of rapture, 

At the wealth of capture, 
Prodigal as sunbeams where the wavelets toy, 

I laugh at Time and trial, 

And on his sunny dial 
Turn back the creeping shadows, and feel I'm yet 
a boy. 

ill, 

Come hither, little maiden, 
With wicker basket laden ; 
And thou, O peasant urchin, with cheeks like 
dawning day; 



FORLORN. 353 

"We'll all go forth together, 
Free as the wind and weather, 

And pluck the luscious blackberries that ripen by 
the way; 

You of the world unweeting, 
I from the world retreating, 

To taste a simple pleasure, and prize it while I may ! 



FORLORN. 

" (&tltbt unto <&cltefct." 

I have lived and I have loved ; 

I have waked and I have slept ; 
I have sung and I have danced ; 

I have smiled and I have wept ; 
I have won and wasted treasure ; 
I have had my fill of pleasure ; 
And all these things were weariness, 
And some of them were dreariness ; — 
All these things, but two things, 

Were emptiness and pain : 
And Love — it was the best of them, — 
And Sleep — worth all the rest of them, 

Worth everything but Love to my spirit and 
my brain. 
Be still, my friend, O Slumber ! 
Till my days complete their number, 

For Love shall never, never return to me 



again ! 



2 A 



354 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 



AN INDIAN WAR-SONG. 
I. 

I saw a stain on the last year's snow, 

Brothers ! a stain of blood ! 
But the cold hath past, and the warm winds blow, 

And the trees are in the bud. 
The snow hath melted from dale and hill — 
But the blood — the blood remain eth still ! 

H. 

I heard a voice on the winter blast, 

Brothers ! a voice of woe ! 
And it cried for vengeance as it pass'd 

O'er the cold, blood-crimson snow. 
That wind hath sunk over wood and hill, 
But the voice — the voice — I hear it still ! 

in. 

I saw a spirit in my sleep, 

Brothers ! its hand was red ! 
Its eye was fierce, and its scowl was deep, 

And it cried, " Bevenge the dead ! " 
Shall we not hear what the spirit saith *? 
Onwards, my brothers ! — Bevenge or Death ! 



355 



BY THE MEADOW STILE. 



A Hundred years ago 

The birds made music merry, 
The warm wind thaw'd the snow, 

And ripen'd peach and cherry j 
Green grew the vernal grass, 

Sweet hope consoled the sad, 
And a lad would love a lass, 

And a lass accept a lad. 
Heigho ! heigho ! 
This chanced, I know, 
A hundred happy years ago ! 

THE LASS. 

A hundred years ago 

The ship w T ould choose its haven, 
And doves as white as snow 

Object to kiss the raven ; 
And scythes would mow the grass, 

And hope forsake the sad ; 
And a lad mistake a lass, 

And a lass refuse the lad. 
Heigho ! heigho ! 
This chanced, I know, 

A minute and a half a#o. 



Ji A w 



356 



IN THE PINE-WOOD. 



In the pine-wood near the city, 

Half in sunshine, half in shade, 
Singing to herself her ditty, 

Sat the melancholy maid. 
And her song was : " Ever — ever — 

" Falls the blossom from the tree, 
" Runs the bright rejoicing river 

" To the broad and thankless sea ; 
" And true love runs down to sorrow ! 

" Woe for ever ! woe is me ! " 

ii. 

In the pine-wood near the city, 

In the spring-time thus she sang ; 
But she died, alas, the pity ! 

Long ere winter's tempests rang, — 
Pined and died for secret sadness ; 

Nipp'd like blossom on the tree ; 
Blighted in her youthful gladness ; 

Deathward borne like stream to sea ! 
And his heart for whom she suffer' d 

Never knew it. Woe is me ! 



357 



THE BARD'S RECOMPENSE :— LIVING. 



What shall we give him who teaches the nations, 

And cheers the sad heart with the magic of song, 
Now melting to sorrow — subsiding to patience, 

Or pealing like thunder in hatred of wrong 1 ? 
What shall we give him for spreading, like Homer, 

A halo of light o'er the land of his birth — 
Augmenting its glory, embalming its story, 

And sowing its language like seed o'er the earth 1 

II. 

Give him 1 — The scorn of the rich and exalted ! 

If virtuous, ignore him ; if erring, assail ! 
Proclaim when he stumbled ! make known how he 
halted, 

And point with his follies your venomous tale. 
Give him 1 — Neglect, and a crust for his pittance ; 

And when he is dead, and his glory lives on, 
A stone o'er his grave shall be all the acquittance 

The nation shall pay to the greatness that's gone ! 

in. 

But living ? Grown old ? with his splendours around 
him? 

Unable to toil % shall he starve as you bade % 
Or handle some besom that pity has found him, 

To ply at a crossing the mendicant's trade % 



358 SONGS FOK MUSIC. 

Ah, no ! 'twere too bad ! What's the fee of a butler ? 

Half that — if not all — shall the nation award ; 
And say it was granted exactly when wanted — 

To cheer the last hours of the perishing Bard. 



THE BAKD'S KECOMPENSE :— DEAD. 
I, 

The Great King scorn'd the poet 

A hundred years ago, 
And the man of might despised him, 

And the Sage refused to know ; 
Arid Beauty, clad in purple, 

Had not a smile to throw 
On one so poor and humble, 

Singing his joy and woe. 

II. 

But the Great King's crown is shatter'd, 

The Captain's sword is rust, 
The worm is in Beauty's roses, 

And the Sage lies low in dust ; 
And they're all of them forgotten, 

Save by their God ; — we trust ! 
But the Song and the Singer flourish 

In the memory of the just. 



359 



THE BARD'S GRAVE. 



When my soul flies to the great Giver, 

Friends of the bard ! let my dwelling be 
By the green bank of that rippling river, 

Under the shade of yon tall beech-tree. 
Bury me there, ye lovers of song, 

When the prayers for the dead are spoken, 
With my hands on my breast, 
Like a child at rest, 

And my lyre in the grave unbroken ! 
There, untouch'd by the plough or harrow, 

Let the grave of the minstrel be, 
Where the bank is green and the stream is narrow, 

Under the shade of yon tall beech-tree ! 



THE BARD'S EPITAPH. 

If to this grave should pilgrims stray, 

And wonder why no pompous stone 
Is raised above the mouldering clay, 

To make the minstrel's merits known ;- 
Let them but say, — his heart's delight 

Found noblest utterance in a sonor • — 
He loved, and strove to aid the right ; 

And hated — if he did — the wrong • — 
And his poor clay in darkness pent, 
Shall need no other monument. 



INDEX. 



A Coronach Page 35 

A Courtship 321 

A Cry from the deep Waters 82 

A Dew-drop, bright with all the Kays 37 

A Fly on the Brink of a Tankard was sipping 167 

A Hand to take 263 

A Hundred Years ago 355 

A King, a Pope, and a Kaiser . . 334 

A Love-Curse 333 

A Lover and his Lass : 336 

A Lover's Dreams 245 

A Misplaced Affection 325 

"A Penny for thy Thoughts," she said 321 

VA plain Man's Philosophy 6 

A poor Man's Treasures , . 65 

A Traveller through a dusty Road 4 

A Twelvemonth ago I was plain as could be 149 

A Vision 315 

A Welcome to Peace 267 

A Youth, full of Hope, and a Man in his prime 177 

Alas ! poor Things 232 

All Nature takes the Part 109 

Alone on the Slope of the Mountain it grew 147 

Although my Hand ne'er touch'd the Tree 55 

Although the May-blooms wither 232 

Amid the trailing Willows 87 

An autumnal Lyric 205 

An Indian War-Song 354 



362 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

And so they smiled a scornful Smile Page 327 

And were they not the happy Days ? 251 

And wilt thou Love me all thy Life 305 

And wouldst thou from thy passionate Heart 304 

As I was sitting in a Wood 289 

As long as there are Wells and Springs 48 

B. 

Back again , 339 

Be quiet, do ! I'll call my Mother 289 

Be wise, O vagrant Fancy 171 

Believe if you can 16 

Between two Friends in Days of old 41 

Beware, exulting Youth, beware 202 

Black as Beauty's tresses 352 

Blackberries 352 

Breathe again that Song of Sadness 141 

Buried Griefs 19 

By the lone Sea-shore 24 

By the Meadow Stile 355 

Bygones 299 

C. 

Careless 243 

Castle Athelstone 246 

Catawba Wine 284 

Cheer, Boys, cheer ! 90 

Cold Christmas ? JSTo 47 

Combing her Coal-black Hair 318 

Come away ! far away ! from the Hills of bonnie Scotland. . 287 

Come back, come back 32 

Come hither, hither, Lady Yain 129 

Come, Maidens, come to our merry Dance 290 

Contrasts 22 

Could we recall departed Joys 218 



INDEX. 3G3 



D. 



Dark is our Fortune, deep is our Sorrow Paye 229 

Dawn without cloud, thou happy Day ! 315 

Derwentwater 121 

Die ! Flow'rets, die ! 84 

Differences 125 

Down with them ! 101 

Dreaming ! idly Dreaming ! 306 

Dreaming in the Shadow 21 

Dudley Castle 31 

Duke Humphrey's Dinner 222 

E. 

Each block of Marble in the Mine 270 

Ellen 38 

Ellen Evelina 51 

England and France. 1855 115 

England, dear England 106 

England over all ! 117 

English Virtues 253 

Ere Merlin departed, and spread the bright Sail 240 

F. 

Fair and true 172 

Fair Flow'rets of the Field 186 

Fair May unveils her ruddy Cheek 199 

Fall ! oh, fall ! 160 

Fanny array'd in the Bloom of her. Beauty 136 

Far away, far away, on the wide- rolling Billow 138 

Far away — oh, far away 58 

Far ! far upon the Sea ! 91 

Fare thee ill — and not well ! And whenever, hereafter . . 333 

Farewell ! a last Farewell ! 89 

Farewell, O Day, misspent 74 

Farewell to thee, England ! 135 



364 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Farewell to the Woodlands Page 198 

Fierce as its Sunlight the East may be proud 296 

Firm as England's Coast 118 

Five hundred Years the royal Tree 238 

Five Thousand a Year 149 

Flowers in the Stream 260 

Forbearance , . . . . ' 81 

Forlorn ,...., . 353 

Forlorn ! forlorn ! I sit and. sigh , . » . 34 

Fortune , ... 326 

From Dudley's Halls the Lights are glancing 31 

From peaceful Slumber waking , 144 

From the deep and troubled Waters 82 

G, 

Gather, ye Nations, gather I.,..,,....... , . 56 

Give us Heart 193 

Good bye, dear Friends . , , . . . . 40 

Good Company. . 308 

Good Heart and willing Hand 72 

Good Night.,... , 266 

Great King William. , , 52 



Hal and his Friends ..,,.. ,.....,, 165 

Happy Love, , , . . . 1 

Happy Winter . ............ ...,,. 45 

Hark, sweet Music's airy Measure .... 247 

Have Heart, if you'd please us. 193 

Her Ways. , 328 

High to my lips I held Oblivion's Cup 345 

Highland Maidens ,,.,,,,,,..,.,,, .. 335 

Hope cannot cheat us. , ,..,,.,. 16 

Hospitality , 71 

How beautiful is Sunshine ,..,., 22 

How liberal and lovely 205 

How lovely, both in Form and Mind 348 



IXDEX. 3 Go 

How mournful is my Fate Page 178 

How oft along thy Woodland Way 157 

How small the Master-k^s of Thought 163 

Humphrey Dunn 313 

I. 

I am Queen of Smiles and Beauty 44 

I dream *d thou wert a fairy Harp 245 

I fell into Grief and began to complain 188 

I have a People of my own 242 

I have lived and I have loved 353 

I heard the Language of the Trees 2 

I lay in Sorrow deep-distress'd 148 

I left my Love in England 97 

I love my little native Isle 302 

" I love my Love" 207 

I love my Love in Spring-time 230 

I love my Love in the Days of Spring 11 

I never saw John Goodenough 316 

I once believed that in a form so beautiful as thine 309 

I saw a stain on the last year's snow 354 

I send a Question to my Dear 201 

I sent a Message by the Rose 9 

I was harsh and unforgiving 302 

If fairy Tales were true 291 

If Fortune with a smiling Face 189 

If he have Money, or if he have none 313 

If his Heart all undaunted ne'er quail'd before Danger . . 292 

If his Heart never throbbed with Affection 143 

If I die first 346 

If I were a Voice 274 

If the Apple grow 6Q 

If the World deceive me 283 

If to this Grave should Pilgrims stray 359 

I'm but little Nobody 176 

Indifference 228 

In Spring or Summer sleeps the Stone 127 

In storm or shine, two Friends of mine 72 



366 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 






In the Pine- wood Page 356 

In the Summer Evening 128 

In Winter, when the Trees are bare 27 

Ireland's Welcome to Queen Victoria (1849) * . . 67 

I've a Guinea I can spend - 6 

I've a Letter from thy Sire ! Baby mine ! 255 

I've loved thee well, I've loved thee long 169 

I've sail'd the seas from East to West 340 



John and Jonathan e , « o o o 293 

John Goodenough BOOO „ c . . , 316 

Join, Nations, join your Hands „ oa . a . * , . 267 

Jones oo . • «. o o * o o 139 

Joy in Grief . . . . 9 a 69 

Joys of the Past 215 

K. 

King Alfred 226 

L. 

Lady Yain 129 

Land ! Land ! 93 

Last Year's Leaves 77 

Less than a Man 271 

Let's be wise 181 

Little at first, but great at last 4 

Little England I great in Story ! 117 

Long parted Friends 140 

Long parted have we been 104 

Lord, we are thankful 78 

Love in all Seasons 11 

" Love is false," said old John Jenkins 132 

Love ; New and Old 251 

Love once built a Summer Bower 179 

Love plagued me so much when he dwelt in my Heart. ... 183 



INDEX. 367 

Love will find out the Way Page 264 

Love's Questions and Replies 201 

Lovers' Dreams 245 

Lovers' Quarrels 181 

Loving in Vain 304 

M. 

Many Changes I have seen 33 

May Dew 144 

Meadow-sweet 223 

'Mid the new-mown Hay 233 

Miserrimus 332 

Modest Brier ! Odour shedding 250 

Mountain Dew ■„ 286 

Mourn for the mighty Dead 110 

My Dog 329 

My Garden Gate 184 

My good Eight Hand 188 

My Heart is full of joy to-day 338 

My Hopes are cross'd, my Joys are lost 231 

My Kingdom is wide as the Wish of my Soul 307 

My Love took shelter under the Tree 133 

N. 

Never again 310 

No more Cupids 301 

No one knows what silent Secrets 29 

. Noon-Time in the Shade 58 

Notice to quit 183 

O. 

O Streamlet, swiftly flowing 244 

O thou who in Danger and Strife 213 

O ye Tears ! O ye Tears ! that have long refused to flow . . 79 

O'er the blue Ocean gleaming 257 

Of all the bold Britains Pendragon was Lord 268 



368 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

Of lowly Birth, but regal Beauty Page 166 

Of old a Spade 161 

Oh, bonnie are the Heather-bells 335 

Oh, Child ! beware ! 224 

Oh ! fond is Remembrance of Time long departed 64 

Oh ! leave her to her Grief 168 

Oh ! let them rest, the buried Griefs 19 

Oh, Nightingale that singest 150 

Oh ! say, fond Heart 20 

Oh ! spare my tender Flowers 259 

Oh ! the happy Time departed 23 

Oh ! the Light of our Love, in the Dawn of our Day 153 

Oh ! where would be the golden Corn 220 

Oh, yes, we believe in the Witches and Fairies 158 

Oh ! Youth's fond Dreams, like Evening Skies . . 145 

Ohio's green Hill-tops .'.... 284 

Old John Jenkins 132 

Old King Coal 151 

Once my Dreams from Morn to Night 211 

Our Swords are sheathed 120 

Over the Mountains 264 

Over the Way 137 



P. 

Passing o'er the Ferry 320 

Pendragon the King 268 

Pity ! 348 

Pour the Wine in the Cup 15 

Procrastinations 189 

Protestations 66 

Proud Beauty 54 

Proud Maid, thou lov'st thyself too much 54 

Q. 

Quoth "I" to "Me:" "Hove but thee " 325 



INDEX. 3G9 



R. 



Raise high the Flag of England ! Page 107 

Reconciliation 61 

Rejoice, my Son ! rejoice ! 98 

Returning Messengers 302 

Ring on, ring on, ye mournful Chimes 197 

Ring the Joy-bells, Chime on Chime ! 114 

Ripe as Peaches, fresh as Morning 172 

Roaming through the wild Wood 216 

Rolling Home 34 

Rose ! we love thee for thy Splendour 223 

Rouse ! Brothers, rouse ! we've far to travel 95 

S. 

Sad Erin ! thy Harp has been silent too long 67 

Said Brother Jonathan to John 293 

Said Winter, and he strove to frown 45 

Say no more that Love deceives 235 

Sceptre, Crown, and Throne 130 

Scorn'd by one I loved too fondly 228 

Seasons and Reasons 230 

Shall Love be for ever the Theme of the Song ? 30 

She comes ! — make way, ye People! 311 

She sits o'er the Keystone of the Bridge 318 

She was not born 'mid Rain or Dew 134 

She wore three Flowers upon her Breast 239 

Should I ask you to come to the Valley to-night 324 

Sigh not ! Joy 's in Season , 214 

Since the sweet Knowledge I possess 1 

Some drink the Wine for sake of Wine 187 

Songs without Words 279 

Sorrows : or the Stone, the Clod, and the Harp 127 

Spring gave me a Friend, and a true, true Love 243 

Spring-time Music fills the Valleys 14 2 

Stand back, bewildering Politics 184 

Stay ! stay I Vision of Youth and Grace ! 22? 

2b 



370 SONGS FOE MUSIC. 

Strew Roses — gather Garlands Page 111 

Summer Rain 

Sunshine after "Rain 

Sweet Lake of the Mountains ! how happy was I 121 

T. 

Take the Flower 208 

Tears 79 

Tell me, oh, tell me ! 122 

Tell me, ye waving Woods and. throbbing Ocean 156 

Tell me, ye winged Winds 322 

That is the Way 349 

The Absolute Monarchy 307,- 

The Astronomer 8 

The Ballad of the Boar-hunters 276 

The Bard's Grave c 359 

The Bard's Epitaph 359 

The Bard's Recompense : — Living 357 

The Bard's Recompense : — Dead 358 

The Barley and the Hop 159 

The Battle of Waterloo 118 

The Beautifier 156 

The Beauty and the Bee 136 

The Blessed Rain 133 

The Blue Sky : 210 

The Boatman 146 

The Breath of Morn, — the opening Rose 70 

The Bridegroom smiled a happy Smile 146 

The Canadian Sleigh Song 100 

The cheerful Heart 123 

The Chimes 197 

The Christmas Queen 44 

The Confabulation 21 

The Consoler 27 

The Cuckoo 203 

The Cup of Oblivion 345 

The Daisies 338 



INDEX. 371 

The Dangers Page 224 

The Day has gone 219 

The Death-song of Thaliessin 242 

The Departure of Merlin 240 

The Dew-drop and the Diamond 37 

The Doubtful Case of Abstinence and Temperance 48 

The Dreams of Youth 145 

The Eglantine 250 

The Englishman ,. , ., 340 

The Eolian Harp 182 

The Evenings 128 

The Exile of Cloudland 191 

The Fading rose may drink the Dew 155 

The fav'ring Wind pipes aloft in the Shrouds 272 

The Ferry 320 

The Festival of Labour 56 

The Fisherman and his Wife , 39 

The Flower and Chain 155 

The Flower of December 169 

The Gin-fiend 62 

The Giant 86 

The Glades of Windsor 64 

The Glory of the Flag 107 

The Great King scorn'd the Poet 358 

The Green Bay-tree 282 

The Green Lanes of England 154 

The Haunted Ball-room 247 

The Hawthorn and the Ivy 248 

The Highland Emigrants 287 

The Inquiry 322 

The Iron Ship 134 

The Joy-bell and the Requiem 114 

The King among Men 292 

The King can drink the best of Wine 125 

The Kissing-gate 324 

The Language of the Trees 2 

The Last Quarrel 258 

The last Year's leaves are sere and brown 77 



372 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

The Light of Love Page 153 

The Linnet must sing, though the Falcon may hear 170 

The Lost Day 74 

The Magic Harp 87 

The Man who will not merry be 195 

The Master-keys 163 

The Maying 199 

The Men of the North 296 

The Miller of the Dee 221 

The Minstrel's Consolation 229 

The Moonlight Dance 290 

The Mother's Lament 178 

The Mountain Streams are silent 60 

The Names on the Beech-tree 164 

The Nightingale and the Lark 150 

The Offered Flower 208 

The old Man to the Swallow 330 

The Only Shilling 216 

The Owl 204 

The Parting Tear 89 

The Pioneers 95 

The Primrose 311 

The Rapid Stream 244 

The Return Home 272 

The Return of the Dove 76 

The River of Time 177 

The Rose's Errand 9 

The Sailor's Wife— Part 1 255 

The Sailor's Wife— Part II 257 

The Sea-sorrow 138 

The Secrets of the Hawthorn 29 

The Shadows 299 

The Shadow of Trees 280 

The Ship 334 

The Silver Birch 147 

The Snow lies deep upon the Ground 100 

The sober Wine 187 

The Sunshine and the Rain 220 



INDEX. 373 

The Summer Bower Page 179 

The Swallow and the Robin 142 

The Sweetheart 327 

The Sympathy of the Bells 34 

The Tambourine Girl 302 

The Three Flowers 239 

The Two Books 336 

The Universal Corner 35 

The Virtues of Old England 253 

The White Dove 10 

The Will o' the Wisp 281 

The Wines 236 

The Wind and the Rain 231 

The Wintry Winds 174 

The Wither'd Flowers 84 

The Woodland Stream 157 

The Woodman 238 

The " Yes "and the " No" 305 

There came a Giant to my Door 86 

There dwelt a Miller hale and bold B 221 

There rose a Revolt in the Kingdom of Song 301 

There was Hope in the Ark at the Dawn of the Day .... 76 

There's nothing I prize beneath the Sky 332 

Though I may be poor, if you reckon in Coin 65 

Though Love may claim the sweetest Song 123 

Though sad was our parting 112 

Thou hast Smiles for all the World 51 

Three Hunters went a-hunting 276 

Through Porch and Hall the Ivies creep 246 

Through the Green Lanes of England 154 

Through the Summer Night 182 

Time and the Spring 259 

'Tis merry in the Mead 25 

'Tis sweet in the shade of the lofty Trees 280 

'Tis true that you and I fell out yesterday 61 

'Tis true that youthful Hopes deceive 210 

To-day 70 

To leave your Business all day long 349 



374 SONGS FOR MUSIC. 

To the West, to the West Page 94 

Trade and Spade ' 41 

Trusting Heart 212 

'Twas in the Morning early 159 

U. 

Undeceived . 309 

Under the Holly-bough 194 

Under the Yine 55 

Unhappy John 261 

Up aloft amid the rigging sings the fresh exulting gale 342 

Up the Stream — through the Wood 102 

Upon thy lofty Tower 8 

W. 

WaillWail! 351 

Weary Warfare 109 

We may not praise the good old Times 71 

Wert thou mine 319 

We sit round the Table, and pour out the Wine 139 

What ! banish Love ? 225 

What Flow'rets, O Eiver ! 260 

What is a Sceptre but a Staff? 130 

What is the Meaning of the Song ? 207 

What Joy attends the Fisher's Life ! 39 

What shall we give him who teaches the Nations 357 

When at the Feet of Wealth and Power 271 

When cold-hearted Poverty knocks at my Door 137 

When crisp cold Winter binds the Ground 204 

When Crispin was King 298 

When Daisies pied, and Snowdrops pale 203 

When first my Fancy 18 

When I recall what Love has done 173 

W T hen I sit by myself at the close of the day 308 

When I was a Dweller in Cloudland 191 

When I was a little Child 98 

When little John is five Years old 35 



INDEX. O t 

When my Soul flies to the great Giver «... Page 359 

When on the Bough the fruits Decay 40 

When Song to cheer the Heart of Man ^ 175 

When Swallows dart from Cottage Eaves 233 

When there is something to be said 328 

When the wild Wind flies 176 

When thou art grave, and castest down 38 

W T hen, Where, and How 13 

Whence comest thou ? 236 

Where are they gone — the beautiful ? 164 

Where is the Place of their first fond Meeting 282 

Where is the Slave who of England despairing ? 106 

Where the Snake lurks in the tangled Grass 281 

Who dare disturb the Lands ? 115 

Who is it shall complain ? 69 

Who shall be fairest ? 252 

Who'd rather be oppress'd than fight ? 113 

Why do I love thee ? 124 

Why dost thou linger, Swallow ? 330 

Why should we pluck the dewy Rose ? 81 

Wild Flowers 186 

Will I love thee ? Ah yes ! but the love which I knew . . 310 

Wine and Glory 167 

Witches and Fairies 158 

With Humphrey the Duke long ago 222 

Y. 

Ye who have scorn'd each other 194 

You love me not 209 

You're rich, and yet you are not proud 263 

Youth's Warning 202 



COX AND TVYMAN, PRINTERS, GREAT QUEEN STREET, LONDON. 



*T> 



Li '30 



a 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 525 770 m \ 



